


How To Be A Hero

by Myrime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Dorks in Love, F/M, Family, Friendship, Grimmauld Place, Love, Romance, Sirius is more perceptive than we give him credit for, Slow Burn, Trust, War, and Remus is who he is, kind of, since Dora's a child in the beginning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-02 15:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8672524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: With all of his friends dead, Remus felt lost. He knew they would not have wanted him to give up, but simply getting up each morning seemed like an impossible thing to do.Thankfully, though, he did not have to make his way alone. Enter one Nymphadora Tonks - who was too stubborn to let him dwell in misery - and things might just turn out well in the end.
- Remus, Dora and an end that really is a beginning.





	1. How To Be A Hero

“Why are you sad?” A young voice ripped Remus out of his bitter musings. Looking up in surprise, he found Andromeda’s daughter watching him expectantly. He never noticed the ceremony being over, but people were standing around in small groups, talking with serious faces and important voices but altogether quite relaxed.

“It’s a sad day,” he finally answered, not bothering to wipe away the tears that were still running down his gaunt face. They were nothing to be ashamed of.

“But everyone else is happy,” the girl offered. And she was right. A lot of the people present only came to honour those who had helped end the war. They were not grieving.

Whoever had James and Lily Potter been, anyway?

The remaining members of the Order had opted for a small, private ceremony, but the Ministry had insisted to make an official affair out of it.

“Most of them didn’t know Lily and James.”

“But you did?” She looked slightly confused, twirling one of her blond pigtails – which, surely, were Andromeda’s doing – around a finger.

“Yes.” Remus smiled and it hurt but that really was not the time for another breakdown. “They were my best friends.”

She cocked her head to the side at that, maybe a tad unsure. “Then where is the rest of your friends? They should be here when you’re sad.”

He clenched his eyes shut, trying hard not to think about Peter’s finger and Sirius’ mad, barking laughter that still echoed in his mind. “They,” he finally croaked, “They couldn’t make it.”

She frowned. “And instead, everyone else came? That’s stupid.”

“Yeah.” Remus chuckled. “But my friends did something very brave and this is the Ministry’s way to thank them.”

“That’s stupid,” the girl repeated. Then she looked at the two new graves and back to him, as if contemplating something. “Mum said they are heroes. Maybe you should thank them, too.”

“Nymphadora, right?” Remus asked, ignoring her grimace and indignant ‘ _Noo, Tonks_ ’. “You know, I’d rather have living friends than dead heroes.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but still she continued. “Maybe they like being heroes.”

He nodded. “Maybe.” Because he knew they would not change a thing, having somehow managed to not only take down Voldemort, but assuring Harry’s survival, too. “To be honest, to me they’ve always been heroes. There was no need to die, only to prove a point.”

Shuffling closer, she asked with curiosity in her tone, “What happened?”

“It’s not a good story to tell.”

She waved his argument away. “Dad always tells stories with lots of bad things happening.”

“Those are fairy tales. They always have a happy end.”

She pondered that, with a serious expression on her young face. “But everyone _is_ happy about this ending.”

Remus flinched, but before she could say anything else, he looked up and stopped her with the sheer intensity of his gaze. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded. “Okay then, Dora.” She did not protest at the name, which he took as a good sign. “You get your story. Sit down.”

The girl did not hesitate and chose the seat right next to him, watching him expectantly. He took another couple of moments, taking in the graveyard, eyes lingering on two particular names on mortal grey.

“Not so long ago,” he finally started, voice hoarse, “In a kingdom not so far away, lived a brave prince in a big, old castle, spending his days with mindless adventures alongside his friends and a beautiful princess he had come to love. His parents ruled the kingdom with a gentle hand and everyone who set eyes upon Prince James knew that, one day, in the far away future, he would be a just king, too. But no one lingered on that thought, because they had peace and he was still so very young.” Remus smiled at the memory of their Hogwarts days. How careless they had been, how happy, how whole.

“One day, though, there came a big, evil monster to their castle and declared a war. ‘ _I am the most powerful being in this world and you will fall before me like everybody else. And I will be the only king._ ’

“The King and Queen had promised to keep their people safe, so they looked the monster squarely in the eye and said: ‘ _Never. We will fight you and we will win, because light will always triumph over darkness._ ’

“They gathered an army and fought many a battle and although they won some of them, they were steadily pushed back. Many people lost their lives, many more their hope, but all knew they would never stop fighting.

“One day, Prince James decided that he could no longer stay in the safety of the castle. He too had a duty to protect his people and his home. His parents protested, of course, not wanting to see their only son hurt or even lose him, but they knew they could not keep him away and they needed all the help they could get.

“So, Prince James and his friends took up their weapons and joined the battles. They were young and invincible, so they pushed back against the monster and his dark forces. And thus, their hopes were high.

“To spread this hope, they gave their people something to celebrate and Prince James married the love of his life, Princess Lily. They were a truly royal couple, James with kind eyes. Lily with fiery hair. Proud and unrelenting, a picture to ignite courage in everybody’s heart.

“They fought valiantly, side by side, and whenever they met the monster they told him, ‘ _We will fight you until the very end.’_

“The monster was furious when they continued to defy him and it knew it had to strike them at their hearts to take them down. So it came, stomping and roaring and breathing fire, right to the castle where the King and Queen lived. It tore down their walls and shattered their swords and when it killed the King and Queen it spread fear throughout the whole kingdom.

“Prince James heard the monster’s laughter from miles away and was devastated because he had loved his parents dearly. But he took the crown with his head held high and when he raised his sword, all his friends followed him. They told the monster, ‘ _You will never win’_ and charged anew.

“Those days were long and dark and desperate, but with King James leading them, they held the line. Then Queen Lily gave birth to their son, Prince Harry, and James was filled with new courage and fierce love.

“The monster knew it had to do something, so it started to take down King James’ group of friends, one by one, and then it roared, ‘ _Next I will take your little prince and watch you despair.’_

“King James stood tall and answered, ‘ _I will never let you harm him.’_

“But fear was growing in his heart and he knew he had to keep his family safe. So, he took his queen and his son and told only his best friend where they were going to hide.

“But he was not the only one afraid and this friend doubted and wavered and fell. He went to the monster and said, ‘ _I will tell you where the king is, if you let me keep my life.’_

“The monster laughed and roared and celebrated his victory even while he was on the way to his bitter enemies. ‘ _See, little king,_ it spoke when it was at their door. ‘ _See how fragile friendship is. I will enjoy killing you. But first, your son.’_

“King James was terribly afraid, but he had lion’s blood running through his veins, so he never hesitated to stand in the monster’s way. ‘ _Never,’_ he whispered and he fought bravely, but he was alone and the monster defeated him laughing. It stepped over the body and searched for its prize.

“Queen Lily kissed her son goodbye and stood before him as his shield. ‘ _Never,’_ she declared and fell at the monster’s wrath because her only weapon had been love.

“’ _Now it is only us,_ ’ the monster laughed, but when it raised his hand to struck Prince Harry, the boy looked up at it with James’ face and Lily’s eyes and the love of all those who had gone before him.

“The monster screamed, ‘ _No, I cannot be defeated by you. I was to be king.’_ But it died and Harry lived. And thus is the peace we are living, built on the loving hearts of two people who would sooner die than let evil win.”

After Remus had finished, his throat dry and with new tears burning in his eyes, they sat in silence for a while. Dora’s wide eyes were hefted onto the graves in front of them, while he himself saw the ghosts of four young boys, ready to take on the world.

“I always liked Sirius,” the girl commented into the silence. If not for the sudden stab of betrayal running through him, Remus would have smiled at her deceptiveness.

“I did, too.” He almost choked on the words. “But fear does strange things to men.”

Sitting up, she declared, “I’m not afraid.” Then she leaned in closer, whispering almost conspiratorial, “I’m going to be an Auror. And I will lock up all the bad people, so you don’t have to be sad ever again.”

He smiled at that, sadly but honest. It was good to see that, somehow, life went on, even if his own had come to a sudden stand-still.

“I am sure you will.”

Dora nodded, then turned serious. “Thank you for the story. And don’t be so sad. They loved you, too.”

Her innocent serenity took away his breath. Ever since that fateful Hallow’s Eve, he had been numb inside, like he was drowning and his lungs had already given up the fight. But that simple statement had opened a dam. Pain flooded his system, fury rose in his heart, loss settled into his bones.

But on the outside, he remained calm as he looked at that girl who had all her fights still ahead of her.

“Yes, I-” he began, only to be interrupted by Andromeda’s irritated voice.

“Nymphadora.” – _Don’t call me that._ – “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. What did I tell you about running away?” She cast a worried glance towards Remus. “I hope she didn’t bother you?”

He smiled reassuringly. It even felt real. “Not at all. We’ve been talking a bit.”

“He told me a story,” Dora threw in, causing her mother to sigh impatiently. “Can he come visit us?”

Andromeda looked up surprised. “It seems you’re one hell of a storyteller.” She waved away his sheepish look and turned serious once again. “But you can come over, of course, whenever you like. I suspect it won’t be easy now with –” She trailed off, but Remus’ smile was still in place.

 “Thank you. Maybe I will.”  He planned on leaving Britain as soon as possible, but he did not say that. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Dora here,” he added jokingly, but his eyes were sincere.

“Well then,” Andromeda nodded. “We’ll better go.” Remus knew she still did not feel safe with her family out in the open. Even more so since that attack on the Longbottoms. “And… my condolences.”

Both of them were surprised when the little girl threw herself at Remus to hug him goodbye. “Stop being so sad,” she whispered into his ear. “I’ll be your friend.” His heart warmed at that, and the raging storm inside it calmed a bit.

They were halfway gone, when she turned around again. “And do call me Dora. I like it.”

He laughed.


	2. Almost Like Home

They lived in a small, homely cottage, right in a calm muggle neighbourhood. A well-kept garden was in the front with children’s toys strewn around and a bicycle leaning against the crisp white wall.

All in all it seemed entirely unmagical from the outside. No one would have guessed that this could be home to the oldest daughter of the House of Black. The closer Remus got, though, the clearer he felt the powerful wards surrounding the whole property, thrumming with energy and no doubt alerting the inhabitants of his arrival.

Nervously clutching a piece of parchment in his scarred hands, he considered turning around again, still not sure that this was such a good idea after all.

One year had passed since everything had fallen apart. One year filled with odd jobs and lonely nights and pain refusing to disappear.

The letter had come as a surprise – and if it had not appeared on an evening when he had lost another job, he would have probably never considered coming. As it was, though, he had needed those words of comfort and he craved some friendly faces. And little Dora –

‘ _Nymphadora is missing you,_ ’ Andromeda had written. It was so easy to reply and accept their invitation. Now, however…

He had not been in Britain since the funeral. Had not even talked to anyone who knew what had happened. This meeting might just be too much, especially with Andromeda looking so much like her cousin.

But before he could decide whether to stay or to leave, the door opened and it was too late for second thoughts.

“Ted,” he greeted cordially, taking care not to betray his inner turmoil.

“Remus.” They shook hands. Then the older man smiled mischievously. “Andy sent me to bring you in. You looked like you were going to run away.” Chuckling at Remus’ sheepish look, he added, “Dora would have never forgiven me if I’d let that happen.”

Together they entered and Ted led them into a spacious kitchen where Andromeda was busy making tea.

“Remus,” she called out. “How good of you to join us.”

She smiled and he felt some of the tension leave his body. They had never had a close relationship other than the occasional meeting with Sirius and through Order business, but her demeanor was genuine and there was no pity in her eyes, so he thought his worries might have been for naught. She motioned him to sit, before calling out to her daughter.

It did not take more than a couple heartbeats before loud trampling could be heard and a small bundle threw herself into his arms.

“Remus. You’re here,” the girl cried out in obvious joy. “I’ve been waiting for ages.”

A smile crept onto the young man’s face, wide and honest, causing several years of age to drop off him.

“I’ve missed you, too, Dora.” She looked up happily at that, glancing at him almost conspiratorial through thick black hair adorned with a couple pink streaks.

“You don’t look so sad anymore. That’s good,” she stated contently. Then a grin split her small face. “Are you going to tell me another story?”

“Nymphadora,” her mother chastised, but Remus waved it away, indicating he did not mind.

“Gladly.” She beamed at him, grabbed his hand and started to drag him up, when Ted stopped her.

“Now, Dora, we invited Remus for dinner. You may get your story afterwards.”

The girl pouted but sat down, pulling her friend down right next to her. “I’m not hungry,” she murmured, making amused looks appear on her parents’ faces.

“But Remus is,” Andromeda stated, her voice leaving no room for further discussion.

After winking at his hosts, Remus leaned towards Dora and whispered, “I’ll hurry.”

Dinner was delicious. While Andromeda, due to being a Black, never learned how to cook, and still had not developed any talent for it, Ted loved spending time in their kitchen and took over the responsibility of feeding the family without complaint. Remus, who had tasted Sirius’ abysmal tries, was very glad for that.

He enjoyed the rich food and the chance to eat until he was full – he had given up the hope of ever getting used to all the meals he missed due to his insufficient and irregular income.

It almost felt like coming home, being welcomed in this house, sharing smiles with people of his past. He even found comfort in Andromeda’s grey eyes, despite them being so similar to Sirius’. They reminded him of _before_ , of the golden times. It made him forget – if only for a moment – that he was the only one left.

Remus had barely time to clear his plate before Dora jumped up and grabbed his hand again. Her mother opened her mouth as if to protest, but he smiled at her and shook his head.

Dora’s room was all in blue, toy dragons lay strewn around and the only thing not drowning in the overall chaos was her bed – probably a courtesy from her mother. The girl hurried towards it, more stumbling and hitting against furniture than actual walking, but she did not seem to notice. Instead, she threw herself onto the dark blue duvet, awaiting him with impatient excitement.

Looking around, Remus located a small chair in corner and moved to get it, but was interrupted.

“No, silly,” she grinned cheekily. “You have to sit here on the bed.”

Shrugging, he complied, positioning himself at the foot, with his back leaning against the wall, so she would have enough room to lie down.

“How have you been?” It was such a grown up question, that he automatically began to work through his standard answer, but something in her eyes startled him. They bore a sincere, caring expression.

‘ _I’ll be your friend._ ’ She had said a year ago and it seemed she had not forgotten it, despite all the time that had passed, despite him being away.

“I’ve been waiting for a letter from you,” she added, as if she had read his mind. “Mum said I shouldn’t bother you. That you’d come when you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I will ever be ready,” he confessed, not knowing what had compelled him to say that, to be so honest with her. But she simply nodded, as if she understood completely. “I thought it would get easier. Everyone else is doing just fine. And I –“

“But you are here.”

He nodded. “A friend asked me to come.” Her smile was the most beautiful thing Remus had ever seen. It made warmth blossom in his chest, flowing all the way into his fingertips. _Better even than chocolate,_ he decided.

“Now about that story –“

“You don’t have to.” Her young face had turned serious again.

“But wasn’t that why you invited me?” dramatically clutching a hand to his chest, he added in a mock-hurt tone, “I traveled through the whole wide world, facing dangers and discomforts with no regard to my personal well-being because my Lady called for me, and now I am dismissed in such a heartless manner. Oh, cruel life.”

Barely able to keep a straight face, she replied pompously, “I did not want to offend you, kind sir. I just thought you might be too tired after your strenuous journey.” At his pained face she finally erupted into laughter and he did not manage to keep up the act for much longer either before following suit.

After they had calmed down, she tried it again, “I mean it. I don’t mind if you don’t want to.”

Remus shook his head gently. “I do want to. With you, it is safe to remember.” Somehow, he knew that was true.

He waited until she had settled comfortably and her eager face almost set him off laughing again, but then he smiled and began.

“Once upon a time, in a deep forest far away, lived a very peculiar group of friends. First there was Prongs, a royal stag. He was brave and smart, and no adventure was too dangerous for him.

“Second there was Padfoot, a big, black dog, rumored to look like a Grim. But he enjoyed life too much to be a sign of death, so you found him always laughing. And he was loyal to a fault.” Until he was not, but this really was not a time for that.

“Third, there was Moony, a wolf who was intelligent and had a gentle heart. He had spent most of his life alone, so he valued his friends over everything else.

“And lastly, there was Wormtail, a rat. And though he was the smallest of the four, he was just as big a part of their group as everyone else. He was cunning and funny and he always was a good listener.

“They were well-loved by most other animals in the forest, but one doe in particular was very dear to Prongs and, in extension, to the others. It would come a day when the two of them would marry, so her safety was of great concern to the friends.

“One day, there were rumors of a very poisonous snake roaming their home, that sought to be King over all the others, and he was seen talking to Prongs’ love. So of course, our four friends had to investigate –“

 

* * *

  

When the story was finished, Remus left Dora upstairs to get ready for bed and rejoined her parents, who were sitting in the living room in front of a merrily burning fire. Ted nursed a drink, offering one to their guest which Remus accepted gladly.

Putting her book down, Andromeda inclined her head. “Is the little monster asleep?”

Remus chuckled. “Not yet. But she’s on her way there.”

“I can’t remember the last time she went to bed willingly.” There was a grin on Ted’s face, but with his next words he turned serious. “You should come more often.” Not giving Remus a chance to answer, he continued hastily. “The offer stands. Just think about it. Running away forever is no solution.”

“I’m not running away.” When the words came out sharper than intended, Remus looked sheepishly down at his hands.

In an attempt to ease the tension around them, Andromeda asked, “Where do you live now?”

“France,” he offered, squirming nervously, which caused both of his hosts to raise their eyebrows.

“That doesn’t sound too convinced.”

His cheeks turning a faint red, Remus gave in. “I had a small flat in Lyon. But – I’ve lost my job and, well, I couldn’t afford it anymore.”

Ted leaned forward, and refilled his guest’s glass with amber liquid. “And now?”

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. “I stay here or there. It’s okay, really,” he added when he saw the other man frown and open his mouth to say something.

“It is sad,” Andromeda spoke up pensively. “To see how prejudiced people are. You’ve got excellent NEWTs, if I remember correctly, and still, no one bothers to look beyond those scars.”

Her words left Remus shell-shocked and uncertain and wary. Did they know? Then why was he here? His rising panic must have shown on his face, because Andromeda lay her hand on his arm and smiled softly.

“Of course we know. There was only a bit of logic needed to figure it out.” Then she chuckled. “Also Sirius was never good at appearing inconspicuous when he was up to something.” At his sharp look she shook her head reassuringly. “Don’t worry, he never told. I just know –“ Tension spiked up, causing her to correct herself. “Knew him.”

Silence settled around them, in which Remus tried to battle down the shame burning in his every fiber. “Then why did you invite me? Why did you leave me alone with Dora? Why –“

“Because,” Ted interrupted in a voice that left no room for discussion. “We trust you. Because you fought beside us these past years, no matter most of the people you were protecting wouldn’t even look at you if they knew. Because we don’t care about such stupid prejudices.”

Andromeda took over. “You’re a good man. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Remus sat with his eyes closed, caught between elation and disbelief, until he heard steps coming closer, interrupting his musings.

Dora came into the living room, clad in her pajamas, with tooth paste still sticking to one side of her mouth. She was smiling from ear to ear and engulfed Remus into another hug. The young man hesitated to put his arms around the girl, watching her parents carefully for any sign of discomfort, anything that would betray their earlier words as lies. But they only smiled, looking utterly comfortable with a werewolf hugging their only child. Taking that as an encouragement, he held her close.

“Good night, Dora,” he said. “Dream well.”

She nodded. “Thank you for the story.” Then she was off, hugging her parents good night as well. At the door she turned again, her face serious. “Don’t forget to write this time.”

“I won’t.” But she was already gone, trusting him to do so without waiting for his affirmation. Smiling, he settled back into his chair, noticing that all tension had left his body.

“Thank you,” he spoke softly, meaning much more than he could ever put into words. He knew he would have to leave soon, to return to France and his futile search for a permanent job that paid enough to keep him alive.

But he did not want to think about that. Right now, right here, he felt almost at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you think. And do point out any mistake I might have overlooked.


	3. The Best Presents Are Unexpected

Seven candles stood proudly straight, gracing the sugary monstrosity that was Dora’s birthday cake. Andromeda had frowned when Ted had first explained the muggle custom to wish for something while blowing out the candles. Neither fate nor magic worked that way, both needed intention and a strong will, but seeing her daughter now, staring intently into the flickering flames, the young face scrunched up in utter concentration, reconciled her with what she felt was some barbarian rite.

A sideward glance directed at her husband revealed that he was apparently just as excited as their child, probably remembering some naïve wish he had had, a lifetime ago, when magic had truly been wishful thinking to him.

Finally, after what seemed like enough time to plan up her entire future and fill it with childish hopes that would never happen, Dora opened her eyes again and leaned forward. Taking a very deep breath, she blew out every single candle with utmost care. That had to be one hell of a wish.

“Can I open my presents now?” she then asked impatiently, as if it had not been her spending endless minutes pondering over the candles.

“After breakfast, dear,” Andromeda said, only just managing to keep herself from sighing as twin disappointed expressions appeared on her daughter and husband’s faces.

That had been another tradition Ted had brought into their family: presents only after the cake. And as no one wanted to wait until the afternoon, there had to be cake for breakfast. Dora did not protest that, of course. And Andromeda herself had never had a chance against those two, no matter what proper decorum dictated her to do. It was, maybe, a good thing that no one of her family deemed them worthy enough to keep in touch. This complete corruption of proper pureblood etiquette would only lead to constant arguments.

“But I’m not hungry,” Dora whined, snapping Andromeda out of her quite cynic musings. Arguments, what a joke. Any visit of a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black here would only end in blood and tears.

“Well, I can understand that.” Andromeda smiled indulgently, almost enjoying to crush her daughter’s hopes with her next words. “So much sugar in the morning really is not good for you. You can have some fruits and we’ll keep the cake and presents for later, when your grandparents are here.”

That earned her a truly contemptuous snort, before Dora simply turned her back on her and grinned widely at her father. “Dad,” she exclaimed pompously. “Cut the cake. I want the biggest piece.”

Chuckling silently, Andromeda leaned back in her chair, hiding her smile behind a freshly brewed cup of tea, content with just watching her family, both of them children in their own way. Not that she would have them any other way.

“You, too, darling?” Ted asked her, holding out a plate to her that held a considerably smaller piece than Dora’s.

Declining politely, she assembled a much more healthy breakfast for herself, lots of vitamins and other ‘revolting stuff’. Well, the girl had to take the energy for all her shenanigans from somewhere.

She had not even finished half an apple, when Dora, bits of cake adorning great parts of her face, looked up at her hopefully. “Presents?,” she asked, shifting impatiently on her chair.

Stretching out an arm to clean up her squirming daughter, naturally ignoring all her loud protests, Andromeda waited a couple heartbeats, just long enough to raise doubts.

“Okay.” It was a long, suffering sound, but neither Dora not Ted waited to hear it finish, jumping up excitedly and racing over to the living room, where a small mountain of packages awaited the slaughter they would experience under the child’s hands.

Now that she was all alone in the kitchen, Andromeda did allow herself to sigh, but put her food aside, following them at a much more dignified pace. As it was, she had not missed anything. Ted sat on the sofa, watching Dora take up every package, reading the card rather than just opening it.

Worry lines appeared on the young face as she got to the last present and had, apparently, not found what she was looking for.

“Where is it?” She turned around to her parents, her whole demeanour heart-broken.

“Where is what?” Ted asked carefully, knowing the answer full well. But, sometimes, knowing the end of a game, did not negate the fun of actually playing it.

“Where is _his_ present?” Dora asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Who are you speaking of, darling?” Andromeda would not let herself be excluded from _all_ the fun this day.

“Mum,” Dora cried out indignantly. “Dad.”

Ted, never disciplined enough to hide the laughter in his eyes, though their daughter was thankfully still too young to catch them at all their lies, leaned towards his wife. “Did you forget to get old Mr. Merrywart’s present? I bet he’s been hiding these crackers away for ages.”

Mr. Merrywart was their neighbour. Their very old neighbour. Who was known for doing all kinds of things truly old people like to do. Like accidentally giving the neighbours’ children dog biscuits meant for his equally old dog. But the box actually had resembled the one his wife used to store her famous self-baked cookies in. So it was a very understandable mistake. Ted had, also understandably, hardly managed to not fall to the floor so hard had he been laughing, when Dora had actually taken a bite, happily expecting the usually delicious cookies. Her face had been hilarious.

“You’re right.” Andromeda continued the act, standing up as if searching for something. “I’m sure I have it somewhere here.”

“Mum.” Dora went so far as to stomp her foot, looking half-pleading, half ready to cry. “I mean Remus’ present.” Then her face turned worried. “You don’t think he forgot, did he?”

Barely containing a new bout of laughter, Ted opened his arms for their daughter who, instead of rushing into them, stopped in front of him. “Dad? He wouldn’t, right?”

“No, dear.” Ted smiled, securing an escaped curl behind her ear. Feeling slightly guilty as he noticed that her hair had turned the mousy brown typical for when she was in emotional distress. If it only were not so entertaining to taunt her... “He wouldn’t.”

“But where is it, then?” Dora asked petulantly, not yet reassured.

“Maybe,” Andromeda cut in, still a bit miffed about the butchering of _her_ birthday traditions. “He, like any sane person, does not open his presents before the afternoon tea. So, it might just not be here, yet.”

“As if,” Ted and Dora said simultaneously, sharing a conspiratorial smile.

“In fact,“ Dora continued to lecture her mother. “He told me about his birthdays. He never waited, either.” Then she added a bit more sheepishly. “And Padfoot and Prongs never let him, later.”

A shadow flickered over Andromeda’s face, as it always did when someone mentioned her wayward cousin, and only years’ worth of controlling her emotions stopped her from completely losing her smile. Ted, who noticed it nonetheless, touched her arm briefly before addressing Dora again.

“Better not remind him of that,” he said, only to be interrupted by an indignant frown.

“Dad,” she chastised. “I wouldn’t _do_ that.”

And she truly would not. For some inexplicable reason, their loud and rambunctious daughter, who never managed to _not_ put her foot into her mouth, never did so with Remus. She never talked about the things declared unspeakable, never overstepped the boundaries he had drawn so tightly around him. Maybe, Andromeda mused, there was still hope for her.

“So,” she returned to the starting point of their discussion. “Where is it?”

“Maybe you should start with your other presents first, until it gets here?” Ted offered, although he knew it would not meet her approval. Then he shared a long-suffering look with his wife.

“No,” Dora pouted, which made her look adorable, although neither of the adults would say that out loud and expect to live.  “I want it _now_.”

“I am truly sorry, then,” a new voice interrupted from the door. “To have kept the lady waiting.”

Silence reigned for a couple moments, in which Dora whirled around and mustered the young man occupying their doorway. Then she shrieked and blurred into motion, hurling herself into Remus’ arms, never once thinking he would not catch her.

“It worked, it worked, it worked,” she chanted, while clinging desperately to her friend, seemingly trying to hug the life out of him. Remus held onto her no less happy, feeling as if a whole wagonload of tension was falling off his shoulders.

“What worked,” he asked hoarsely, when they finally separated, every time overwhelmed anew by the sheer joy the girl showed when they met. He then managed to greet Andromeda and Ted, too, albeit somewhat awkwardly, as Dora still refused to let go of him completely.

“The candles,” Dora explained. “On the cake. Dad said to wish for something while blowing them out, and I wished for you to be here, and now you’re here, so it worked.”

Interrupting her happy rambling, she turned briefly to her father. “Dad, you’re the best.” Then, though, she scrunched up her face, looking back towards Remus. “Well, the second best.”

“Thanks, mate,” Ted muttered, mock-scowling and earning himself a sheepish look. “What a fool I was, thinking I’d have her all for myself for at least a couple more years.”

“Don’t be silly, Dad,” Dora said in a surprisingly good imitation of her mother. “You’ve still got half of me.”

“And what do I have?” Andromeda asked dryly, motioning their guest to sit as well as that was possible with an overexcited child attached to his hip.

“You can share with Dad,” her daughter explained matter-of-factly, not caring in the least for the dumbstruck expressions on the grown ups’ faces. “Why didn’t you say anything,” she then demanded to know.

Remus chuckled, “I thought you might like the surprise.”

“Of course I do.” Then something crossed her face that looked suspiciously like guilt. “But how?”

“You know,” he started, whispering conspiratorial, “There’s that thing called apparition, where you turn on the spot and, tadaa, you’re somewhere else.”

“Prat,” Dora called laughing, ignoring her mother’s disapproving glare. “I mean with your work.”

Shrugging, he said simply, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be today.” It would do no good to tell her that his rather spontaneous decision to come to England for her birthday had probably cost him another job. But, he mused, it would not have taken much longer even if he had not scheduled this impromptu leave. That was just how things were. And it was definitely better to lose a job because of something pleasant like meeting his kind of family, than his quickly accumulating sick days.

That prompted her to snuggle back into his arms, murmuring a heartfelt ‘Thank you’ into his chest, that left him with a smile so wide that it threatened to split his face in half. Andromeda and Ted watched them with indulgent expressions.

“Maybe it’s time to give you that present now. That was, after all, the reason for the dramatic turn of your morning.” Dora sat up immediately, grinning up at him like he had hung the moon in the sky. Taking a carefully wrapped package out of his pocket, he shrugged sheepishly. “I’m afraid it’s not much –“

She took it from him almost reverently, her earnest eyes never leaving his. “That doesn’t matter. I’ll love it whatever it is. Also,” she added casually, “I’ve already got my best present. You’re here.”

When Remus’ cheeks actually turned a faint pink, Ted chuckled before sighing dramatically at his wife. “Did you hear that?” he asked, clutching his heart as if in pain. “We went to so much trouble locating the perfect present for that ungrateful little brat, and all it took to make her happy was inviting Remus over.”

Andromeda nodded gravely. “I see how it is. We’re just not good enough anymore.”

Dora agreed with that, nodding nonchalantly at her parents. And because there was always a little devil riding her shoulder, she patted her father’s arm and added cheekily, “But don’t worry, maybe your present will be third-best. After Remus’, of course.”

Not able to suppress it, Remus erupted into laughter, while the other two adults sat shell-shocked for a couple moments. After sharing a look, though, a wicked smile appeared on Ted’s face, just as Andromeda adopted her most regal position, motioning toward their daughter with a royal frown.

“That, my dear, just asks for a punishment.”

“Oh yes,” Ted agreed. And then he was moving, hurling himself forward, his hands automatically finding the spots where Dora was the most ticklish. He worked relentlessly, drawing out the most elaborate shrieks from the seven year old, who was trying to hide behind Remus, who was holding his own sides, still not able to stop laughing, only to be drawn right into their little tickling war.

Later he would think, that this was worth losing all the jobs in the world. Simply being here, able to laugh freely with people who, for some indiscernible reason, kept inviting him into their home and hearts. And Dora, of course, who, with a simple look, could free his heart from all the darkness gathering there whenever he was alone. That was it, he guessed. Here, he just was _not alone_.

* * *

Despite Dora’s loud protests, Andromeda made her go upstairs and change into appropriately nice clothes, half an hour before Ted’s parents were due to arrive. That not only displeased the girl because she had to leave Remus’ side, which she had not done since the moment he stepped into their living room, but also because, in her opinion, a better word for ‘appropriate’ was ‘horrible’. After making Remus promise that he would not laugh at whatever ‘dreadfully frilly dress’ her mother had chosen for her, she dashed up to her room, giving the adults for the first time this day room to breathe.

“Thank you for having me over,” Remus said earnestly, thinking that mere words were really not enough to explain that warmth spreading all through his chest.

“Well,” Andromeda countered dryly. “Thank _you_ for making the little monster smile.”

“And shut her up about how we ‘absolutely have to invite Remus again, because we haven’t seen him in forever’,” Ted added in an astute imitation of his daughter’s most whining voice.

“I mean it,” Remus tried again, maybe a little desperately.

Ted’s face grew serious. “We mean it, too.” He said, almost solemnly. Then he was back to his usual joking self. “Though I’m not sure I can forgive you for only scoring third-best present because of your sudden appearance. I fought long and hard with Andromeda to get Dora that broom. And now she barely even spared it a glance.”

Andromeda huffed. “I told you –“

“Oh, no,” her husband interrupted. “You hoped she wouldn’t want it because she suddenly discovered her own ‘girlyness’ or some such nonsense. But I tell you, she’ll love it.” Shrugging, he glanced at their guest. “That is, when her best present is gone again. She can actually take her second-best flying with her.”

Apart from a story book, to get her through the evenings when he could not be there himself to tell her some, Remus had gotten her a small badger figurine, thus declaring her his most loyal friend. Naturally, she had fallen in love with it at once, and hugged it close, despite her mother’s half-hearted protests at such a ‘Hufflepuff present’ when her daughter would clearly not get into _that_ house.

Andromeda harrumphed. “It will be your fault when she breaks her neck.” Through their chuckles, Remus could hear her murmur something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘Not that she would actually need a broom for that,’ which only managed to set him off laughing out loud again.

When they had calmed down, Remus suddenly remembered his manners and, redness creeping into his cheeks, asked, “Maybe I should get on my way. Your parents will be here soon.” He had, after all, only meant to visit in the morning, not stay the whole day.

But both of his hosts shushed him almost instantly. “Stay,” Ted said easily. “You’re practically family anyway.”

“And Dora would never speak with us again, if we’d send you away early,” Andromeda added dryly.

“But I don’t want to be a –“ Twin glares silenced him. It was not hard to admit to himself how happy he was for not having to leave just then, for being able to enjoy the simple warmth of belonging somewhere.

“Mum,” Dora whined from the doorway, “It’s – _pink_.” Her pitched voice easily showed that she would have chosen some very different words, if her mother had not threatened to actually wash her mouth with soap if she ever used them in her hearing again. So, to not prompt her into a tirade about the absolute horridness of her dress, Remus schooled his face into a neutral expression before he turned towards her – only to have his self-restraint severely tested.

The dress certainly was pink. It was also frilly. And – Andromeda could not have chosen a more un-Dora-like dress. Swallowing the probably hysterical laughter rising in his throat, Remus regarded her carefully. “It is – pink,” he finally agreed, earning himself a pleading glance from Dora, and a threatening one from her mother.

Thankfully the doorbell saved him from having to think up a diplomatic answer to appease both females, while Ted tried – and failed – to hide his snicker behind his hand. Now, though, they all jumped into action. Ted took Dora’s hand and made for the door to greet his parents, while Andromeda left for the kitchen to bring in the tea. Suddenly feeling awkward, as he usually was when meeting new people, especially ones he wanted to have a good impression of him, he followed her, hoping to make himself useful.

Andromeda, of course, instantly saw through his motives. Clicking her tongue, she pressed a tablet into his hands. “They’ll like you,” she said, entirely too casual. “No matter what. Dora adores you, that will be enough.”

With that, she was gone, leaving him with no one to hide his burning cheeks from. He really had to get that under control. After all the teasing the Marauders had gotten up to, he had thought he did not blush so easily anymore. But, as it was, he had thought very wrong. It only took new people to do the teasing.

Straightening his shoulders, and chastising himself for it in the same moment, he walked back to the living room, plastering a smile on his face that only turned real when his gaze fell on Dora, who apparently waited for him impatiently.

“And that,” she announced, before he had any chance to say something himself, “Is Remus, my very best friend.” Clambering over to him, she re-attached herself to his side, beaming like the happiest person on earth.

Just as Andromeda had predicted, he did not have to do anything. Dora’s grandparents watched the ease with which she interacted with him. And when they smiled at him, it was warm, honest.

It was the easiest thing in the world to smile back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think.  
> Also, tell me if you want me to write a specific scene. I'd love to add it.


	4. Letters Home

„What if no one will like me?“

Remus looked up surprised at the sudden question, confused for a moment, because he had never heard that particular voice sound so nervous. Dora stood in the door to her home’s living room where he had been reading. She looked small and uncertain and so very unlike her usual vibrant self that it took him a couple of heart-beats to remember that she had asked a question.

When he did, however, he almost laughed. “What?”

She gestured impatiently, looking away almost shyly. “What if –“

“No, no,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just – why would you think that? It’s utter nonsense.”

That made her eyes snap up at him in irritation. “Be serious.”

Laying his book aside, Remus leaned forward. “Look at me and tell me what you see.”

“My best friend,” she answered promptly, causing him to smile. Even after all these years her trust warmed his heart, never knowing how he, of all people, deserved someone like her in his life.

“I mean other than that.”

Sitting down across from him, she pouted. “I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

He ignored her. “You see a tired old man.” She slid to the edge of her seat at that, ready to protest or jump up and hug him and show him what nonsense _that_ was, but Remus did not let her interrupt him. “And this tired old man was a tired and lonely boy once, who was not only very excited about going to Hogwarts, but also terribly afraid.”

He smiled softly, remembering that last week before he was to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time, when it had suddenly become real. That he would leave home. That he would be alone, more alone than ever, for he would not even have his parents.

“Because, contrary to the charming and funny and loyal girl you are, he had real reasons why finding friends might prove just a tiny bit difficult.”

The frown on her face was exquisite. “That’s stupid. You’re great and smart and –“ Then it seemed to dawn on her what he meant, but the next second she eyed him almost chastising. “No one who matters cares for stupid prejudices.”

‘Prejudice’ was her favourite word ever since she learned what it meant. She used it often and with much fire, ranting about everyone who dared have them, especially against her personal storyteller.

“You found good friends, best friends, despite your worries.”

He grinned at her and she blushed. “Exactly. And, believe me, I fought them very hard in the beginning and they stayed by my side anyway. So,” cocking his head to one side, he turned serious again. “There really is no reason why you’d need to be nervous.”

“But I’m –“

“Charming and funny and loyal,” he repeated his earlier description. “You’re also kind and strong-willed.” Chuckling, he added, “And ferocious and absolutely terrifying when you’re angry.”

A smile crept on her lips and he counted that as a victory. “Do you really mean that, or did you say that only because you like me?”

“I like you _and_ I mean it. Also,” he narrowed his eyes playfully, “do you want to imply that I would ever lie?”

Giggling freely, she answered, “Not to me.”

“Right you are.” He nodded. “Never to you.”

Dora slumped back into her seat, relaxed again now that her fears were dealt with. Smiling lazily she motioned at the book laying at his side. “What are you reading? Something interesting?”

He sniffed. “Nothing for little girls.” Leaning forward he said pompously, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Crying out indignantly, she threw herself at him, trying to snatch the book out of his hands which he held right above her reach. Suddenly she grinned and changed her tactic, starting to tickle him where she knew it would hit him hardest.

“You just declared war,” he stated grimly, his eyes laughing. And the big tome lay forgotten as he tackled her and repaid her in kind.

Their happy laughs and squeals were causing quite a commotion, echoing through the small house. Ted, who had been busy with preparing dinner, came to see what they were up to and found them lying in a breathless heap in front of the fire place, panting and holding their sides. He shook his head fondly. Andromeda and he had long ago gotten used to the sudden bursts of childishness from their favourite guest, no matter that he was closer to their age than their daughter’s. He was glad for both of them and went back to the kitchen without making his presence known. Their time together would be over soon enough. No need to interrupt their fun.

Oblivious to their secret observer, Dora giggled at Remus being out of breath. “You’re getting old.”

“Take that back,” he answered, his tone indignant. “Or do you want to get some more?”

She eyed his hands which he had raised threateningly and answered cheekily. “No thanks, I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He only chuckled in response, while Dora put his momentary distractedness to good use and fished for the book that had started their little all-out tickling war.

“Math?” she asked in obvious disbelief. “Really?”

“That’s Arithmancy, little girl.” He eyed her, grinning widely while his voice was mock-condescending. “I did tell you that you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh, the shame.” Sighing, she threw up her arms. “I called you friend. And all the while you were doing math. _Willingly_.”

At her accusing tone, his eyes widened comically and he clutched his heart. “You wound me.” Then he leaned in closer and whispered, “How could I ever do such an evil thing _willingly_? But-“ Hesitating shortly, he seemed to contemplate whether he could tell her. “There’s that evil gremlin who is forcing me to. I swear.” And, thinking about his current employer, ‘gremlin’ did seem like an appropriate description.

Dora regarded him in silence, causing him to look more miserable with every passing second. Finally, she announced very matter-of-factly, “Then we will have to get rid of that gremlin.”

Remus almost fell over in his haste to kneel in front of her. “You honour me, my lady. Now I know that there is nothing more to fear. With such a formidable hero at my side.”

The look of hero-worship on his face was too much for her to remain serious. And when she burst out laughing, he, naturally, followed.

“I don’t want to go,” Dora admitted quietly after they had both calmed down. Upon seeing his expression, she added hastily, “No, I want to go. I just don’t want to leave you.”

That made him smile. Until now it had always been him leaving, back to France or wherever he was trying to settle down, back to odd jobs and lonely flats, back to grim thoughts and painful what-ifs. Her being sad had made it, somehow, better every time. Showing that he would have something to come back to.

Now it was her going away. To her first big adventure. To make the first step into the rest of her life. And still, she was thinking about him. That would probably change when she made her first friends, but right then it was heart-warming and very welcome, because, if he was honest with himself – and he usually was – knowing that she would not be here for the better part of the following years hurt. He liked Ted and Andromeda well enough and he knew they would make sure that he would not stop coming over, but it would all be different with Dora gone.

“I want you to have the time of your life at Hogwarts. I want you to find the best friends imaginable, play pranks and maybe learn something useful when there’s nothing else to do.” He chuckled quietly. “But in all truth, I, too, don’t want you to leave.”

She smiled at him, both sad and happy. “I will write, of course.”

“I never thought you wouldn’t.”

At that she engulfed him in a bone-breaking hug and he thought, maybe, she would not forget about him after all.

* * *

Of course she did not.

She was gone two months already, but she wrote to him faithfully at least once a week. And whole novels at that, describing in detail what she had been up to, what she had learned – most of what had nothing to do with her actual lessons – and about Charlie Weasley.

_Guess what_ , she had started her third letter. _You were right (of course). I’ve found a friend_.

He could almost see her in front of him, jumping up and down, bursting with the need to tell him. And he was happy for her, really. That did not change that irrational feeling of sadness settling in his bones, the disappointment of losing her so soon. His reply was nonetheless cheerful, congratulating her ( _When have I ever been wrong?_ ) and giving practical tips for all kind of mischief that would not get them into too much trouble.

He was honestly surprised when her letters did not grow shorter. And when she called Charlie her ‘second-best friend’ he was positively giddy, laughing about his idiotic fear of being left behind again. Had it not been him who told her how loyal she was?

_Hufflepuff. Whatever else? Mum was probably a bit disappointed, but surely Dad did his ridiculous victory dance and snapped her out of it. The only problem, my green hair clashes horribly with the yellow on the uniform. Red does the trick, though._

Grinning widely Remus imagined her sitting at her House Table, her young face crunched in concentration while trying to pick the perfect colour to go with her house colours while still driving her mother mad.

_Charlie mocked me about my hair. Asked if I secretly wished to be in Gryffindor with him. I turned his green in revenge. Said it would match his desire to be in Slytherin._ _By the way, do you know any secret passage into the Snake Pit? We’ve got an idea…_

Unfortunately, he did not. And not for lack of trying. James and Sirius had spent every single night for a fortnight trying to find possible entrances in the whole dungeon. Without success. That did not stop them from pulling the cleverest of pranks on their least favourite house in Hogwarts. Knowing the official entrance and having an invisible cloak at hand did do the trick.

Time until Christmas was flying, as Dora reminded him several times in every letter. ( _You’ll be there, right? Mum wrote me that she already asked you to come. No excuses!_ )

He was there, of course. In fact, he awaited her at King’s Cross, impatient and giddy, and he was not disappointed at all. Because as soon as Dora laid eyes on him she started running and threw herself into his arms, all red hair and shining eyes.

“Remus,” she shrieked. Then she turned and greeted her parents, who were shaking their heads at her behaviour. But she did not seem to notice. Instead she babbled on excitedly. “There’s so much I’ve got to tell you.”

When she spotted a group of redheads in the crowd, she called out, “Charlie.”

And there he was, grinning just as wildly as she was, and extended his hand as if he had known Remus all his life. “You must be Dora’s very best friend. I’m only her second-best, as she is so fond of reminding me. She told me all about you.”

“I might remove that ‘best’ completely if you don’t stop being a brat.”

He only shrugged cheekily. “You gotta love her.” Then he waved at her parents and was gone again, off with his own family.

Ted shook his head. “You completely stole our show.” But he smiled. “Though that was probably good. Or we might have embarrassed our dear Nymphadora in front of her friend and Christmas would have been a very sour affair.”

The girl nodded emphatically at that, then grabbed Remus hand and pulled him towards the exit, trusting that her parents would follow. Not even Andromeda could find it in her to chastise her for her improper behaviour, happy to have her daughter back, to see her smiling and healthy and not at all changed. Instead she turned to her husband and repeated the Weasley boy’s words, one eyebrow raised. “You gotta love her.”

And they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Please tell me whether you liked this chapter.


	5. Ridiculous

Andromeda was annoyed.

By Remus, who, despite trying to be quiet, could not quite keep himself from snickering. By Ted, who just sat there, nonchalant as always, nursing his whiskey as if nothing was amiss.

And most of all by Nymphadora, who, ever since she had attempted to start her homework, paced the room, a book in one hand while the other gesticulated wildly at times – if one wanted to find a polite word for the rather rude gestures she definitely had not taught her child.

Various muttered remarks disturbed the normally so peaceful silence in the Tonks’ home, too loud to ignore but not loud enough, to understand them properly. Andromeda had the fleeting thought that she probably did not want to hear them, anyway. Even more so, because she had tried to tell herself often enough that Nymphadora was already too old to adopt better manners. Not that she had ever been willing to do that, no matter what age.

“Nympha-“ she spoke up finally, when she felt the need to get up and drag her daughter to a seat by the ear. But her try to end this peacefully was interrupted rudely.

“Not now, mum,” the girl said absentmindedly, not sparing even a glance at her mother.

Remus snickered again, lowering his book to better observe the unfolding scene, while Ted tried to hide his grin behind his whiskey glass. Unsuccessfully.

“I don’t quite get what you find so funny about this.” Andromeda had intended her voice to sound more scathing, but it turned out to be half-desperate, half-pleading. And that did not help at all with her growing irritation. Narrowing her eyes, she looked from one occupant of the room to the next. All of which were ignoring her.

Nymphadora probably had not even heard her. Remus had raised his book again, not willing to be on the receiving end of her disapproval. And Ted, knowing her moods better than the rest, stared into the fireplace as if contemplating whether he should get more wood or just throw himself in and be done with it.

But countless years of marriage and, before that, living in a Black household, had taught Andromeda nothing if not persistence. So her gaze stayed fixed on her husband’s face, daring him to keep ignoring her.

Finally, he raised his eyes, not without grimacing at Remus at his betrayal – who definitely laughed again – and prepared himself for his wife’s chastising.

“Do something,” she ordered, one eyebrow raised, looking the very image of a pureblood lady, accustomed to getting her will.

“But Andy,” he all but whined. “Leave her be. She’s been home for, what? 20 hours –“

“Exactly, and she’s already driving me mad.”

“Could you two stop being so loud? Or go argue somewhere else. I’m trying to work here.” Nymphadora glared at them for a second, then returned to her pacing and muttering, never noticing the dazzled look on her parents’ faces or how Remus started shaking with silent laughter.

“Did she just?” Andromeda’s voice was almost toneless, while Ted nodded slowly. Straightening her back, she sent a last glare at the other adults in the room, cowering under her glare, and opened her mouth to put an end to that nonsense herself – only to be interrupted again.

“This is ridiculous,” her daughter snapped and, for the first time this evening, she felt that the two of them were agreeing on something.

“Indeed,” Andromeda drawled. When there was no further reaction, she turned towards their guest, who was still inappropriately amused by her annoyance. “You,” she snapped, causing both men two flinch. Ted, who realized he was off the hook, grinned and leaned back into his armchair, enjoying his drink. Remus, however, eyed her warily, knowing he could not pull himself out of this one.

“Yes?” he asked almost timidly.

“ _Do something_.”

“But how? If even _you_ tried without success -”

Andromeda did not allow herself to be swayed by his innocent eyes. Instead she glared in her best imitation of her own mother. “I don’t care. Get her to stop, or get her out of here. She _always_ listens to you.”

There was no point arguing that. Sighing quietly, Remus got up and slowly walked over to where the girl was still pacing, careful to stay out of her way.

“Dora,” he asked softly, succeeding in her raising her head the tiniest bit, eyes still fixed on her book. Taking this small reaction as encouragement, he stepped closer and continued, “We need to go upstairs, or your mother will without doubt grow insane.”

Throwing a lazy glance around, Dora nodded and, without interrupting her movement, turned towards the door. “Come,” she ordered before she disappeared, leaving behind stunned silence.

Remus could not help the smug smile forming on his lips, although he did try to hide it until he was safely out of the room himself. No need to call Andromeda’s anger down on him. Not before dinner, anyway.

Their muffled voices followed him upstairs, making him grin even wider.

“How did he _do_ that?”

“It’s a gift, I guess. His Hogwarts years must have taught him how to deal with Black blood.”

That they did, indeed.

Dora’s room was still in utter chaos. And although there were now clothes and books strewn around instead of her beloved toy dragons, he did know that she still had them in a small box in her closet, always prepared to surprise – and embarrass – Charlie who still insisted on his childhood wish of working with dragons. Then again, Dora was still set on becoming an Auror, too.

When he entered, she sat on the ground in front of her bed, her face almost desperate.

“How am I ever going to do this?” she pouted.

“What exactly?” Clearing a space for himself, Remus sat down next to her.

“OWLs.” Dora answered, not really helpful.

“Last time I checked, you were pretty near top of your class,” he trailed off when he saw her frown. “What changed?”

“Snape did.” Somehow, he could not imagine that happening. Because, really, could he get worse?

Remus had been very surprised when he found out that Snape had returned to Hogwarts to teach Potions. Even ignoring their ongoing rivalry – if that was the right name for it – and the resulting unpopularity of the Slytherin, he never seemed like someone to willingly spend his days with other people or, worse, children. Snape was brilliant at Potions, but teaching was another matter altogether.

Before he could inquire further, however, Dora continued, “And Trenton.”

“The new Defence teacher?”

“Yes, and he’s a real bastard.” For a moment she seemed to reconsider that, then shook her head. “No. I mean, he is, but he’s real good. It’s just that the past two teachers were rubbish, and now he expects us to just be able to do all the stuff anyway. And he just teaches what he thinks important and made up his own curriculum. He wants us to cast _nonverbally_.”

The way she was throwing her arms up in frustration, she seemed so much like Peter had so often when he complained about all the work they had to do, that Remus could not help but laugh out loud. Which brought Dora’s wrath down on him.

“Do you think this is funny?”, she asked, eyes wide and cheeks coloured red. He tried to stop laughing. Really.

She glared at him. A minute, maybe two, but when he did not seem to stop anytime soon, her face grew softer.

“So, this is first year all over again?” Remus looked at her curiously. “I worry too much, and you tell me I’m going to make it anyway?”

Well, that was not the reason for his undue amusement, but why point that out when she seemed to get some confidence from it. “Exactly.”

“But-“ She pointed at the book and he took it from her, not even glancing at what made her become so desperate.

“You told me almost ten years ago that you wanted to become an Auror.” She nodded. “And since then, you’ve never changed your mind. Not once. Not even when Charlie can’t stop going on about how _wicked_ dragons are.”

That made her grin, because her friend really had tried to wake her interest in them and even asked her constantly to accompany him to a dragon shelter in Romania during the summer holidays. Which she probably would do, no matter what she wanted to do with her life.

“You’re not about to give up on that, because some teacher, and a competent one at that, actually wants you to do something to earn your goal, are you?”

Dora opened her mouth, but Remus did not wait to hear whether it was to protest or agree. “Auror training will be hard. Don’t get me wrong,” he said smiling, “I know you will make it. Not only because you are talented and hellishly stubborn, but also because you promised me once you’d make it and take care of all the bad guys out there. And what am I to do without your protection?”

His voice was light, playful even, and her face brightened, but it almost hurt him to see that. Of course, he wanted her to be happy and fulfil her wishes. Auror training would even make sure that she would be able to protect herself from most ordinary dangers. But the catch was, as an Auror she would not only face ordinary things. She would be on the front lines no matter what happened. During the last war, the Aurors had died by the dozens.

Dumbledore had been cryptic about Voldemort’s downfall. What if he was not gone? What if there would come someone else, equally as dark and cruel? How could he ever stand by, knowing that she would be out there, fighting something he, in his own time, had not been able to defeat?

“You’re right,” she exclaimed and he could not even find it in himself to answer with his customary ‘ _I always am._ ’ That did not go unnoticed and she turned serious again. “What?”

“Do your parents know about your plans?” That was not what bothered him, but he would not dampen her mood by admitting his fears. There was no way she would stay a child for all eternity to be kept safe at home. Knowing her, it was obvious that she would fight for the light side when the time came, Auror or not.

She shrugged casually, which told him everything. “I’ve been talking about it since before Hogwarts.”

“So they don’t know that you’re still serious about it?” Dora avoided his eyes. “You don’t want to tell them.” And he was not surprised about that at all.

“You know Mum.” That he did. She would throw a tantrum – in a most lady like way, of course, but the end effect would be the same.

“Ted will understand,” Remus offered quietly.

Uncertainty shone in her eyes. “Will he?”

“Well, he won’t like it and he’ll try to dissuade you from it. You _are_ his little girl.” He smiled when Dora groaned in frustration. “But eventually he will understand. And he will support you every step of the way.”

For a moment, she observed him closely, then she asked in a small voice, “And you?”

Remus sighed. Of course, she would ask that. “I told you about the war. How horrible it was. How desperate _we_ were at times. I have never lied to you, so,” laying a hand on her shoulder, he looked her right into the eyes, willing her to feel rather than hear what he meant, “I don’t like the thought of you fighting and being in danger. I will fear for you during every mission they will give you. I guess I won’t even be able to sleep until I know you’ve come home safely.

“But,” and the small flicker of her eyes told him that she was relieved there _was_ a ‘but’, no matter how much she knew that he believed in her. “I know that you are good. I know that you want this.” He shrugged. “I’ll be beside you no matter what.”

Remus guessed his speech had sounded a bit cheesy, but it was the truth and Dora did not seem to care anyway, because she threw herself into his arms and he held her close.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“Always.”

When they parted, Remus gestured towards the book that had started this whole mess. “What do you think if the two of us, and Charlie, if he wants to, make a little trip to the Forbidden Forest tomorrow afternoon.”

Dora stared at him as if he had gone mad, causing him to laugh. “What? Do you want to just abandon us out there, so we have no other choice but learn how to defend ourselves? And fast at that?”

“While that idea has merit, too,” he grinned cheekily, dodging her pitiful attempt to hit him. “And I’m sure your mother would be all for it, after you have driven her all but insane earlier, I thought more about getting into Hogwarts wards, where you will be allowed to do magic. So we’ll be able to improvise a little lesson in Defence. Which,” he added, sounding slightly pompous, “I happen to be quite good at.”

Dora squealed and hugged him again, before hurrying to her feet and looking for parchment and quill. “I’ve got to write to Charlie,” she said excitedly.

And when she had done just that, she sprinted to the door, turning again to grin at him widely and calling out a heartfelt ‘Thank you’, and then she was gone. Off to find their family owl and tell her parents the good news that she would not only _not_ annoy them the next day, but also further her education.

Andromeda would be thrilled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and all the best for 2017 for all of you.


	6. Loyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Guest, thank you very much for your comment and your request. I promise I'm going to write out a chapter about Patronus training. I thought I could manage even with exams going on but I guess it wasn't to be. But I will do it!
> 
> And now onto a chapter that was thankfully already written!

„Where is he?“ Dora burst through the door to his living quarters without bothering to knock. Her hair was pure black for once and her Auror uniform was wrinkled as if she had thrown it on in a hurry. Which she probably had before storming to Hogwarts at three in the morning

Remus looked up at her heavily breathing form, at a loss for words. He had not even tried to go to bed, even though he had not slept in two days. His mind was in utter chaos, tired from the full moon that had just passed and even more so from the all but impossible things that had taken course beneath it.

“Where. Is. He,” she asked again, pressing the words out between clenched teeth. He did not know whether she was upset or worried or – something else.

“Who?” he finally questioned tonelessly, not even trying to act innocent. It was more that he did not know the answer himself. Who was that man, indeed, who had escaped from Hogwarts and the dementor’s Kiss last night?

Dora deflated at his tired demeanour and let herself fall into a chair next to him. “So he’s not a traitor after all?”

At his asking glance, she elaborated. “I read the report back in the Auror office. Someone told that Harry insists that Sirius is innocent.”

When she got only a noncommittal shrug in response, she asked impatiently, “And? Is he?”

“I don’t know.” There was a distinct kind of helplessness in Remus’ voice. “Yes. Maybe.” Their eyes met and his were so desperate they made her flinch as if burned. “I want him to be. But then – He was twelve years in Azkaban. I let him rot there.” Panic crept into his words. “I hated him.”

“You didn’t,” Dora interrupted him almost softly, laying a hand on his forearm. Ignoring his shocked ‘What?’, she continued. “You never hated him. You hated what he did and what he had become, but never what he was before. You couldn’t have.”

They stayed silent for a moment, Remus avoiding her gaze, staring out the window as if the night sky held all the answers he was searching for. Finally, he nodded.

“Because that would have meant that all the years before, all my life really, were a lie. Because then we never could have been the brothers we claimed to be.” It was a painful confession.

Dora cocked her head, “What happened?”

Remus took his time. “Peter is alive,” he then said and fell silent again as if that explained everything.

Somehow it did. Then again, it brought up a hundred, a thousand more questions. None of which they could answer – or even wanted to, in some cases.

“So it was him.” It was not a question. Still her voice was laced with wonder and something akin to disgust. “ _So he took his queen and his son and told only his best friend where they were going to hide. But he was not the only one afraid, so this friend doubted and wavered and fell._ ”

Remus looked up in surprise, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You still remember that?”

“Of course. It was the first story you ever told me. When we promised we’d stay friends.”

That made him wince. He knew what happened to promises such like this. They would be torn apart by time and fears.

“They thought it was me.” A simple confession, opening up abysses and long-forgotten wounds.

“Then they were stupid.” Dora bristled, her narrowed eyes making clear that she would not apologize for talking ill of his dead friends. “You’re the most loyal person I’ve ever met.”

It amazed him time and again how utterly convinced she seemed of his goodness, how highly she spoke of him. And it was funny, really, how much he depended on her approval, how much this young woman’s friendship meant to him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he told her everything about that night mere hours – maybe an eternity – ago, somehow trusting that she would not turn away when she heard what he had almost done. What his carelessness could have done to Harry and his friends. Or that he had been willing to take a life so easily, no matter how serious Peter’s crimes might have been.

“So he escaped.” And the growl in her voice was meant for the rat, not her cousin. “It’s a shame I’m still in training and cannot be assigned to the team searching for Sirius. I could help him. I hope he’s smart enough to leave Britain.”

“You never know with Sirius.” Somehow Remus found it in himself to chuckle, despite being dead tired and in emotional turmoil. “I might follow him,” he then offered, not really knowing himself where that thought came from.

She was not happy about that, but not surprised either. “The school year’s not yet over –”

He waved her argument away. “Snape will without doubt leak my condition to the school. I’d rather leave than be thrown out.” Despite being used to losing his jobs regularly there was bitterness in his tone. Hogwarts had been his home all those years ago. Leaving yet again, and in shame at that, was painful.

“With Peter and Sirius alive, I might have a purpose again, other than trying to earn enough to get through another month. A life on the run doesn’t sound so bad when you’re not alone.”

Dora stayed silent at that. She knew her parents had offered him a home and money and a job more than once, but he had always been adamant on managing on his own. _I don’t want charity_ , he had declared with that quiet determination of his that made it so hard to argue with him.

So instead of fighting, she simply stated, “You know you are keyed into my wards. So if the two of you need a safe place to catch your breath every once in a while, you know where to find me.”

Gratefulness shone in his eyes, causing her to shrug. “You are always welcome in my home,” she muttered.

They launched into a companionable silence, only interrupted by Remus’ “It’s pretty late. Maybe you should go to bed?” and her noncommittal humming, after which they stayed right where they were, comfortable in each other’s presence.

The night was almost over anyway and come morning they would have to fill the roles recent events had loaded onto them. Better to enjoy the peace while it lasted. Their storm was coming up fast.

Only after the sun had risen and the castle was slowly starting to wake did they get up, still tired, but calmer than before, like it was so often the case when they spent time together.

Dora opened her arms and held him close, transferring her invitation once more with something far more honest than words.

“Tell the mutt I want to meet him. I need to see for myself if he lives up to your stories.”

Remus laughed. “Don’t worry. He will even surpass them.”

* * *

Their first meeting began rather awkward.

Despite knowing how much time had passed, Sirius somehow expected to see his baby cousin as she had been before, painfully young and throwing a temper tantrum because she did not want to wear some dress her mother had laid out for her or fighting mock-duels with him and the boys.

Instead she was all grown up and training to be an Auror, ready to go out and leave her mark on the world, eyeing him not with hero-worship but sceptical calculation.

At the same time, Dora struggled to recognize her jovial, handsome and always careless cousin in this haggard man with a gaunt face and haunted eyes, whose mouth had not laughed in years and whose hands could not stop fidgeting nervously.

“Sirius,” she said slowly, probing how the name felt on her lips, how its bearer reacted to it.

“Tonks.” The ghost of a smile flickered over both their faces.

“You remember that, huh?”

“You made sure that no one could forget.” His toothy grin caused her to sigh dramatically, all the while trying to ignore how that gesture made his face look like a skull.

“I was a real terror, right?”

“My dear Dora.” Remus’ chuckle interrupted them from the doorway. “Don’t act all innocent, you still _are_ a terror.”

The young woman cried out indignantly, making the two men laugh out loud. Remus stepped fully into the room, put a tea tray onto the table and sat down next to Dora.

“You let him call you Dora?” Sirius asked, still smiling.

“It’s still Tonks to you,” she replied snootily. “I dare you.”

None of them would have admitted it aloud, but they were all glad that the almost choking tension that had settled around them the moment Sirius had knocked on Dora’s door, had disappeared.

And while it would still take a long time until Sirius would be able to relax again, he at least stopped looking over his shoulder every couple of seconds as if expecting Aurors or dementors to jump up from behind the couch.

“How did Remus here convinced you that I’m innocent?” That last word seemed odd coming out of the escapee’s mouth.

He had cleaned up since Azkaban and his clothes were mostly whole, but he still had that starved, half-mad look of a caged man.

As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled hoarsely. “I know I don’t look the part.”

Dora shrugged, trying to look casual, but it was obvious she was uncomfortable. “He believed in you.” Then, after glancing at her friend, she added, “Even though he had the most reasons not to. And I have come to trust him.”

Sirius watched them curiously, seemingly reading them, seeing beyond what they knew themselves. Then he leaned back, apparently satisfied, and smirked. “And why is that,” he asked like the cat watching the canary, getting ready for the kill.

Dora seemed oblivious to his smug demeanour, or at least she pretended to be. “We’ve been friends ever since –” Stopping herself abruptly, she changed course, although not before the reappeared light in her cousin’s eyes dimmed a bit. “He told me stories, and visited whenever he was in Britain. We exchanged letters when he was not. I –”

Smirk growing even wider, Sirius cut her rambling off. “And when are you going to tell your parents that you’re in love with your childhood friend? And he with you?”

Stunned silence settled around them as Dora turned a bright shade of red and Remus did his best to murder his friend with a withering glare. But none of them, Sirius noted with growing satisfaction, denied it.

“That will really be a –”

“What do you plan on doing next?” Dora stumbled over the words, voice slightly raised to drown him out.

She threw a glance towards Remus who was sitting stiffly, but took it as a good sign that he had not moved away from her. How could that mutt possibly know?

Looking back at Sirius, she realized with a strange mixture of victory and regret, that her question had brought out the shadows in his eyes again.

“Dumbledore,” he began reluctantly, his velvety voice disappearing back into whatever abyss he had found it in. “He wants me to reopen Grimmauld Place.”

The darkness in his tone as well as Remus’ grim nod – which had thankfully dispersed the sudden awkwardness between them – surprised her. She knew that the ancestral London Estate of the Blacks was at Grimmauld Place and, according to her mother’s stories, it was not the most cheerful of places, but this air of hostility spoke of something worse.

When it was obvious that her cousin would not continue, she turned towards Remus, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

“After our fifth year,” he said slowly, giving their friend the chance to interrupt him. “Sirius was expected to do something he didn’t want, so he ran away and vowed never to return.”

“What was it?”

A look passed between the two men. “My dear mother demanded that I remember my roots and join the Death Eaters.” Sirius chuckled humourlessly. “Naturally, I refused. But she was never one to accept a ‘no’. I left before she decided to use the Imperius.”

With his eyes seeing long-gone, far-away things, he added absentmindedly, “She always had a hand for the Unforgivables. Bella herself could have learned something from her Cruciatus.”

Dora did not know what shocked her more: that Walburga Black would use the Torture Curse on her own son – which should not surprise her, really, her family _was_ known for insanity – or how casual Sirius spoke about it.

It made her heart roar inside her chest, reminding her once again why she had been sorted into Hufflepuff. But when she saw Remus clenching his hands next to her, she pushed away the need to jump up and crash something or, even better, find someone of her blood relatives and give them a good tongue-lashing and a taste of why the other Auror trainees were afraid of her temper.

Instead she laid her own hand on his, knowing that she had always been able to calm him down and spend some comfort.

“And Dumbledore expects you to go back there why exactly?”

“The greater good, of course.” Sirius smiled darkly, with hardly concealed bitterness. “He is reinstating the Order of the Phoenix. And could there be a better symbol than having its headquarters in the home of one of our darkest families? But don’t worry, I should be used to being a prisoner in hell by now.”

Dora looked at him intensely. It was kind of true. He _would_ be a prisoner, but she would be damned if she let him rot there and not do something to help him heal.

“You’re not alone,” she said.

His gaze trailed down to where her hand was still laying on Remus’. “No,” he nodded, and his smile seemed to be more honest than before. “I am not.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. And please consider leaving a comment.


	7. Grim Old Conversations

Later, he could not have said what he had expected to find, but it certainly was not this. Passing Grimmauld Place’s entrance hall in a hurry, tired and quite nervous about the upcoming meeting, Remus made his way to the library, until now the only really inhabitable room in the whole house. He was supposed to meet Dora here an hour ago, to spend some time together before the scheduled Order meeting, but was delayed when Moody wanted a detailed report of some failed mission.

As it was, he hoped that the library was still whole and standing – something that was not guaranteed with how badly tempered Sirius had been since arriving here. Remus could not really hold that against his old friend but still feared what might happen if Dora was in a bad mood, too. Those two could tear the world asunder without ever breaking into a sweat. Black temper, the both of them.

So it was with quite a bit of apprehension that Remus opened the door – only to be met by his friends bowing over something on the table between them, seemingly carefree and – giggling.

“What –” Remus started, only to trail off again. Neither of them were prone to giggle, having inherited the typical bark-like laughter of their ancestors. And, what was even more disconcerting, Sirius had not laughed once since being locked up in his childhood home. Instead he had hidden himself away, fire whiskey constantly at his side, preferring to spend his days in the past, brooding and feeling guilty.

Dora, too, had been atypically downcast these past weeks since the Tournament had ended and the outbreak of the next war was looming on the horizon. Understandably, really, seeing as the Ministry and most of her co-workers chose to live on in ignorance, denying Voldemort’s resurrection and missing all their chances to properly prepare. So Dora, as an Auror and Order member, did not only have to act all unconcerned at work but was also running herself dry with missions and Moody’s additional training.

For weeks now she had been tired and irritable, torn between seeking solace in his arms, like she had done for most of her life, and standing on her own feet, insistent on doing her part. At the same time she had been adamant that Sirius should not take unnecessary risks, wishing to keep her family safe, especially as he had only just been returned to them.

Finding them in such obvious harmony was therefore quite unexpected, a nice surprise, but Remus, ever the sceptic, was looking desperately for the catch.

“What are you doing?” He tried again, his voice firmer this time, though not even the normally so daft Sirius could miss the underlying nervousness. Twin mischievous expressions met his question, which did nothing to appease his trepidation.

“Well,” Sirius drawled, seemingly completely at ease within his own skin. “Nymphie and I had a very animated discussion earlier.” His cousin, while glaring angrily at the horrid nickname, flinched at his description.

They had _had_ a ‘discussion’, and it had certainly been animated, though she was not too sure that anyone without Black blood would call it just that. In fact, they had both done their best to scream louder than the lovely Mrs. Black – who had been overjoyed at the entertainment they offered her.

Now that she was thinking about it, Dora was still angry. She knew the Black temper, knew the Black inability to remain at the side lines, knew the gnawing pain of being locked up in this of all houses. The whole aura of the house, the stuffiness, the dank and dirty rooms, the desperation still lingering in the wallpapers and furniture – she could feel it, could feel her blood sing out to it.

Maybe it was a Black thing, maybe she had entered the house expecting all of this and was therefore feeling it worse than other Order members. Maybe it was the boiling fury she always felt when thinking of her mother’s former family, when remembering her _aunt_ Bellatrix and the words she had hissed when they had come across each other in Diagon Alley years ago. Dora had been very young, of course, but she still remembered that fanatical gleam in the familiar eyes, the obvious insanity.

So, yes, she could understand Sirius’ unwillingness to stay in this house, knowing that his aversion must be a hundred times worse than hers, seeing as he had a childhood worth of memories playing out inside these walls. But this was not only about him. He had family and friends to think about who cared for him, wanted him free and happy and _alive._

At least Remus had not been on time to witness their screaming because it surely would have hurt him. To her, Sirius was family, a long lost cousin come back to life. To Remus, he was more, the last tender connection to the life he had lived before her. And, because he always felt the need to play peace-keeper, Dora was certain, that _they_ would have hurt him, too, hurling words at him that might have been unintentional but cut deep nonetheless.

“So, in an attempt to keep the peace,” Sirius continued, oblivious to her inner musings. “We decided to get along.”

“You _decided_ to get along,” Remus repeated slightly dazed, though the sarcasm in his voice was almost tangible.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed happily, then smirked. “We _bonded_ over the one thing we have in common.”

“Apart from decades of insane ancestors and a knack for creating chaos wherever you go?”

“Exactly,” Dora chirped sweetly, sharing a mischievous look with her cousin, before both of them picked something up from the table and waved with it.

“You,” they chimed together, their relation obvious in the twin, slightly maniacal grins. It took a couple moments for Remus to register that the stuff they were still holding up were pictures. Pictures of their Hogwarts days.

“You were _so_ adorable,” Dora gushed, expertly finding one where an eleven year old Remus was huddled into one of the armchairs in Gryffindor’s Common Room, wearing a too big sweater and his face scrunched up in utter concentration as he read a thick, old tome. His hair, he saw, was cut short for once, leaving him no chance to hide his sharp cheekbones, and the last remnants of baby fat that stubbornly refused to disappear until second year, despite him being otherwise skinny to a fault, due to his condition.

“I was just telling her about the incident in second year, when James accidentally emptied that cauldron all over you.” Sirius eyes were bright and the smile he wore threatening to cut his face in half as he held up another picture.

Little Remus was here covered completely in green goo, standing miserably in Myrtle’s bathroom while his ‘friends’ could barely breathe, so hard were they laughing.

“Accidentally?” Remus asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Of course,” the man-sized child insisted – and not very convincing at that. “We _never_ would have done that on purpose. Not even if the potion we wanted to brew did not turn out as it should because we did not listen to you. Which you were telling us repeatedly. But that is not at all a reason to shut you up with drenching you in said failed potion.”

Looking from the glaring picture-Remus to the even more glaring real-Remus, Dora could not keep the laughter back any longer, falling backwards onto the couch and holding her sides in a comical imitation of the picture-Marauders.

“You are laughing at the wrong time, dear,” Remus said in a sickly sweet tone that was somewhat negated by the involuntary twitching of his lips. “Maybe you have forgotten that I have quite the collection of pictures of _your_ childhood, additionally to the ones Andromeda sent me regularly. And we all know how much your mother loves to embarrass you.”

That made her halt, her hair turning red at the tips. Eyeing him nervously, she asked. “You wouldn’t, right?” But then her gaze fell back on the goo-covered Remus and another laughing fit overcame her.

“You can bet that I will.” Remus regarded her almost benevolently for a moment, then turned to his friend, who watched the proceedings with a highly amused smirk. “Alas,” and here he sighed dramatically, “I’m not in the mood to go back to my flat and get those pictures. So, we’ll have to deal with _you_ first.”

Sirius gulped audibly, knowing that particular glint in his almost-brother’s amber eyes all too well. It was the same look he wore before executing one of his more ingenious pranks against those who wronged him or his friends personally. It was the look that made Slytherins run and Wormtail hide behind his curtains. It was the look, that had always promised the most fun to James and him – when it was not directed at them.

Finally sitting down at the table with them, Remus calmly searched through the heap of pictures. “Let’s see,” he breathed while sorting through years of jokes and adventures. “Say, Dora, have I ever told you about the day James and Sirius tried to break into the Slytherin dormitory?”

“Noo,” Sirius howled and jumped up, trying to snatch the very colourful picture out of Remus’ hands. But to no avail, as Dora had already seen it, eyes growing wide as saucers, while her laughter grew even louder.

Remus nodded and, with a predatory grin, he added, “The _girl’s_ dormitory?”

* * *

“Do you want to grab some dinner and come over to my flat?” Dora asked, after the Order meeting was concluded and their fellow members began making their way out of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen, most wearing grim expressions or talking animatedly about recent events.

When Remus did not answer at once, she stopped her observation of the bustling activity and found him regarding her with a strange intensity.

“I don’t think that is a good idea,” he finally said, his tone carefully neutral which, naturally, set off alarm bells in her head.

“What do you mean with that?” Dora intoned clearly, turning around so she could give him her full attention.

“I mean that it is probably not a good idea for us to be alone right now.” Remus was clearly uncomfortable with this topic. “It might give some people the wrong idea.”

In a good imitation of her mother, Dora raised one eyebrow in scepticism. “We have spent time alone together since I was five years old.”

Remus cringed, before nodding curtly. “Exactly.”

He then avoided her gaze, busying himself with studying the scratched table in front of them. This, more than the probable meaning of his words, rendered her speechless. A small but not insignificant part of her wanted to give in to the sudden rush of anger cursing through her, to snap at him and set him right. Another part, and that one sounded suspiciously like Remus himself, warned her to treat with caution. Lest she allowed her temper to worsen this situation.

“We never talked about it,” she then said softly, no judgement evident in her tone.

Feigning ignorance, which, Dora decided, did not suit him at all, Remus cocked his head to the side. “About what?”

“Us.”

“There is not much to –” Now obviously in denial, Remus still refused to look at her.

“About what Sirius said about _us_ ,” she specified. “About what is happening between _us_.”

“Nothing is happening,” he insisted, his voice so patronizing that something inside her snapped.

“It is _not_ nothing,” Dora bellowed, attracting the attention of the few Order members that had not yet left. She never spared them a glance, though, but jumped up and dragged the unwilling Remus toward the stairs. Upon seeing that, Sirius wolf-whistled, but one patented Black death glare was enough shut him up. Which, at any other time, would have filled Dora with pride. Now, though, she had bigger problems. The crumbling of her oldest and most precious friendship, for one.

“Dora,” Remus tried to calm her, putting up resistance as soon as they were out of their colleagues’ sight, but she only fastened her stride, gripping his hand even tighter, as if she feared he would disappear if she let go of him. And that was not even that improbable.

Only when the dark door of the library shut behind them did she stop, looking at him almost pleadingly. “It is not nothing,” she repeated, her voice urgent.

“But what if it is?” Having expected loud protests and twisted logics, his answer surprised her, told her more about his struggle then his previous distance. Before she could regain her wit, though, he continued in that infuriating teacher voice of his. “It is only naturally that you find yourself interested in your male friends. You’ve done the same with Charlie and that boy from Auror training. You grow close and at some point you want to test your limits. That is not necessarily a bad thing, but in this case –”

“I want to test my limits?” Dora asked incredulously, her eyes narrowed. Normally that would have been the point where he stopped, retraced his steps and tried his best to salvage the situation. Now, though, he pushed on, intent on getting over this delicate topic.

“Yes. But I can assure you, you don’t have to. I’ve known you your whole life and we are friends. Nothing more. No matter what else you believe you’re feeling right now.”

“Just because I, unlike you, am not a master in bloody self-denial, Remus Lupin,” Dora snarled, more upset than she thought possible, “Doesn’t mean that I want things just for the sake of getting them.” Huffing like an infuriated mother dragon, she pointed her finger right at his chest. “I _know_ what I want, and I know _why_ I want it and –“

“And I’m not going to risk some very good friendships for a passing school girl infatuation,” Remus cut in coolly, seemingly completely unmoved, but the expression in his amber eyes was flat.

“School girl?” Dora shrieked. “This is what you see in me? Some wanton girl lusting for a professor figure.” Taking the effort to straighten herself, she tried to calm down a bit, though the angry red did not disappear from her cheeks or her hair. “Sorry to disappoint,  but you were not that impressive a teacher.”

Unfazed by her snide comment, Remus nodded. “Then we seem to agree on at least one thing. Maybe we can just put this whole ugly affair behind us then?”

Dora could not believe him, his cold demeanour. The _nerve_ of this man. She knew – she had to be right in her guess that his feelings for her were not as inexistent as he pretended them to be. Well, that assumption was mainly based on Sirius’ observation, which should have been discouraging in itself – but they had both been Marauders. They _knew_ each other. And Remus had not protested then.

Only now, after she had decided to go on the offensive, knowing full well that Remus would never do anything ‘untoward’ on his own. He did appreciate her and her parents’ friendships too much for that. But this vehement resistance was worse than she had feared. Especially now that their world was descending into another war and no one could be sure how much time they had really left.

“No,” Dora insisted, having to fight down the childish impulse to stomp her feet. “I will not. And if you’d only stop being stubborn for one bloody minute so we can talk -”

“There is nothing to talk about.” A distinct note of finality accompanied Remus’ abrupt tone and he turned around, striding towards the door.

“But I lo-” Dora began, desperately wishing that he would just listen to her, understand that she was completely serious.

“Don’t say it,” Remus cut her off, sounding as if he was already miles away, as if he was not interrupting the confession of her feelings for him. “Because you don’t.”

“Remus,” she tried again, seeing him open the door but unable to move herself. Every step further seemed to raise walls between them, almost tangible in the tense air.

Stopping right in the doorway, he faced her once again, though his eyes were fixed on a point over her left shoulder. “Be so good to tell Andromeda that I will be unable to attend our weekly dinner tomorrow evening.”

Then he was gone, just like that, and Dora seemed to sink in on herself, all strength leaving her shoulders, staring at the space he had occupied mere moments ago. It hurt, she mused, being rejected like that. Rejected by _him_ of all people. And, even worse, she could not even begin to think of a way to salvage this situation, their friendship. They had always trusted each other with everything. But how could they do that now?

And she was not even sure whom she was angrier at. Him, for being his usual insufferable but honourable self, doing what he thought was right instead of what might bring him happiness for once. Or herself, for complicating their relationship like that, for falling for the one person she never wanted to lose. She was sure of her feelings, but maybe it would have been better to keep them hidden, to wait whether he would realize himself what they might have. If he would only give them a chance. Maybe it would have been better to have at least part of him – the part she had come to love in the first place, because he had always been there for her – than pushing him away because she wanted more.

A sudden cough interrupted her thoughts, causing her head to snap up hopefully. Had he seen reason and come back?

But it was only Sirius, standing awkwardly in the door. His face was unreadable, so she could not surmise what he thought of the whole situation. “It seems, that didn’t go too well.”

Feeling the need to punch something, someone if her cousin dared to make another badly timed comment, she said lowly, but dangerously, “Out.”

An elegantly raised eyebrow met her command. “May I remind you that you are in _my_ house and –“

“Out,” Dora roared, her eyes glowing furiously. Sirius, very familiar with her typically Black temper, raised his hands in a placating manner.

“All right, all right. I’m gone.”

And then he was. And she was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a review to tell me what you thought.


	8. Tearing Down Walls

“Why are you so bloody stubborn?” Sirius looked at his friend over the rim of his whiskey glass, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Are you –” Remus stopped himself, not wanting to put up with that old name pun that had stopped being funny before their first week in Hogwarts had been over.

“Yes I am,” Sirius answered nonetheless, although not amused either. “You’re perfect for each other.”

“We are _not_ perfect. She’s got her whole life ahead of her.”

“And you are old and poor and damaged. Merlin, I’ve heard your stupid arguments a thousand times. I _don’t_ want to go over them again.”

“Then stop bringing up this subject.”

Remus was frustrated. All had been good before his friend had started making constant comments about him and Dora. Until the both of them could no longer ignore the grain of truth in his mockery. Things had started to go downhill from there.

He had known her since her birth, tagging along when Sirius had went to meet his baby cousin for the first time. And then he had become her friend and confidant.

She had a crush on him, nothing more. It would be over pretty soon and then it would only be awkward if he would react any different to her advances. They were friends, and he wanted them to _stay_ friends. That would not happen if he gave in to her pleading and his own bloody feelings – which really were not helping.

But this was not only between them. What would he tell Andromeda and Ted if he asked out their daughter with whom he had spent hours and days alone during her childhood? ‘Hey there, don’t worry I was waiting until she was of age and out of Hogwarts before I made my move on her.’ Brilliant idea.

“You should at least talk to her about this.” Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sirius stopped him with a glare. “She _is_ old enough to know what she wants. And, believe me, she cherishes your friendship so much, she wouldn’t risk it if she wasn’t sure about this.”

“Funny, to me it seems like she has completely lost her mind.”

“You certainly are as stubborn as only old men can be.”

Remus did not deem that worthy of an answer. Instead he made his way over to the door, intent on getting out of the house for a while to clear his head, and maybe find some Death Eaters to keep him occupied.

“Damn you, Remus. Don’t run away and leave me here all alone,” Sirius shouted, but to no avail. His friend did not even look back. Muttering obscenities under his breath, he did not bother to get up and run after Remus. They were all so very adamant on him staying put and not leaving the house, and he was not so sure he could stick to that, if he went down now and saw the front door open right in front of him, with freedom so alluringly close.

Instead he refilled his glass and gripped it with bony hands, refusing to give into the urge to throw it against the nearest wall. Ever since coming back into his childhood home, he had destroyed a whole wagon load of dishes. Seeing his mother’s good china shatter on the floor had been very satisfactory. Doing it in front of her thrice damned portrait even more so.

He kept sitting there in the library, the only room in the house that seemed the least bit inviting, due to Remus – always a book lover – taking care of it. It would probably be a good idea to do some more cleaning and sorting through his family’s stuff, lest the children encountered some of the more dangerous artefacts that were bound to be lying around, but he could not get himself to care.

Being locked up here, of all places, was not doing him any good. It was hard to escape the nightmares the dementors left him when waking up brought no relief either. The first moments after opening his eyes always left him in a panic, thinking he was back home during the holidays after fifth year, expecting his mother to show up any second to start yelling and cursing.

Remembering all that had happened and why he was back, was not helping at all.

When he heard the front door open, he was pleasantly surprised, thinking that Remus had changed his mind and come back. But just as he wanted to call out and apologize and try to be better company this time, someone else’s voice interrupted him.

“Remus?” Dora sounded almost reluctant. “Are you here?” Her steps came up the stairs and closer to the library door. Everyone knew that was where the werewolf could be found most of the time.

“Remus,” she repeated, sticking her head into the room, eyes hopeful at seeing the fire burning. But when she recognized Sirius, her face fell. “Oh.”

“Only me,” he offered, caught between being hurt at her obvious disappointment and relief at having another human being there with him.

“So, Remus is out?” When he nodded, she sighed and entered, sitting down in Remus’ usual seat, as if that would call him back.

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded, then raised his bottle. “Want some?”

For a moment it seemed like she would refuse, no doubt thinking about the Order meeting later or her job. But she extended her hand, shrugging. “Why not.”

He poured her a generous amount. “You don’t look good.”

“Geez, thanks, cousin. You don’t look that healthy either. Still not over your twelve years long island vacation?” Her tone was biting, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she looked down apologetically. “I’m –”

“He’ll come around.”

At that her head snapped up, eyes filled with hope and suspicion. “What?”

“Remus is stubborn as hell. But so are you. It will take some time, but he will see, eventually, that you are serious about this.”

“He thinks I’m not –” Dora sputtered.

“He thinks he is not good enough for you.” Sirius smirked. “As I’m sure he has told you a hundred times already.”

“Only once or twice actually. He usually runs away _before_ we can even argue.” Sighing, she downed the amber liquid and held out her glass for him to refill it.

“He values you above most other things. He wants you to be happy, but,” after hesitating for a second, Sirius decided to be blunt, “He doesn’t want to be hurt again.”

“What?” Dora blurted out, voice laced with disbelief.

“He’ll deny it, of course. In fact, I don’t think he’s even aware of it. It’s just -” he looked up helplessly. He had never been good at all things concerning emotions. “After Halloween – He lost everything and, somehow, he then found you, and you caught him and helped him up again. He loves you. Not only romantically. Also in a deeper kind of way. Because you’ve been there for him after we left him.”

Suddenly a thought crossed his mind and made him laugh, which caused Dora to look at him strangely. “It’s – Well, the two of you have been friends for longer than we have. You know,” at that, bitterness crept into his voice, “Our all-encompassing, unbreakable friendship. Brothers for life. All that nonsense. “You were what, five?, when you met at the funeral, and still your word was worth more than our silly vows.” He leaned back, by then talking mostly to himself. “You said you’d be his friend, and you were. Just like that. I wonder where it all went wrong for us.”

They sat in silence for a while, Sirius pondering the shattered pieces of their bond, Dora thinking intently about his words, too caught up in her own problems to offer him any comfort.

“So you say, he thinks that this is just – a _mood_?” She blinked several times. “He thinks I’ve got a crush, like a silly school girl and her teacher, and when I’ve had a shag I’ll let him fall and be on my way?”

Despite it being inappropriate, Sirius had to chuckle at her being so upset, but he sobered up fast when she sent him a withering glare.

“Are you sure it is _not_ a mood?” It seemed like she wanted to jump up and hit him, but she caught herself and thought about his words.

“Yes,” she finally offered. “This is nothing like with the boys at school or Damien in Auror training. That was nice and all, but –” She had no words, but Sirius thought he understood her nonetheless.

“What do I do if he -” Dora trailed off, uncertain, maybe even a bit afraid.

“He loves you,” Sirius repeated his earlier sentiment. “It is obvious.”

At that she chuckled. “To all but us, you mean?”

But he shook his head. “I’m sure he knows. He would just never act on it. He’s,” searching for the right word, he threw a look at the door leading to the rest of his hated home, “He is terrified of losing you.”

He felt like he needed to elaborate further. “I know he is afraid of losing me. When I came back I – Well, I know he still cares for me and we are friends, but he keeps his distance. He’s always ready to jump up and be out of the door. All to save himself some of the pain when I leave him again.”

“ _When_ you leave him again?” The tense protectiveness in her voice made him smile.

“Yes. I mean, it’s only a matter of time. I’m an escaped convict, innocent or not. The Ministry is searching for me. And I’m sure one day, probably soon, I’ll snap and refuse to be left behind when all of you go out onto a mission or other. One day, I won’t be coming back.”

It was a rare occurrence for Sirius to be so pragmatic. His nonchalance added weight to his statement.

“When he quit his teaching job, he told me he’d rather leave than be thrown out. That’s the same thing then?”

“Yes.”

“But how do I make him see that I don’t plan on leaving him anytime soon. Or let _him_ leave?” she asked, her voice full of tired frustration.

Before Sirius had a chance to answer, though, the door opened and the very subject of their discussion entered the library, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, Sirius, I shouldn’t have –” When his eyes fell on Dora, he stopped cold, eyes darting between them suspiciously. “I’m sorry,” he then repeated, voice far more polite, detached even. “I didn’t know you had a guest.”

Again, Sirius was interrupted before he could open his mouth – and possibly defuse the situation before it blew up into their faces.

“Guest?” Dora snapped. “Is that what I am now? Just another Order member? Or maybe nothing more than Sirius’ distant cousin coming over for tea?”

Remus flinched at her tone, but did not make a move to calm her down. Instead he turned back around. “I’ll leave you to it then. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“The hell you will.” When it was obvious that he did not intend to stay and talk, Dora jumped to her feet and all but ran across the room, grabbing Remus’ arm and dragging him back in and towards his seat. After pushing him into it, she did not sit back down again, but stayed right in front of him, glaring at him with an intensity that would have made her mother proud.

“You will not leave this room, Remus Lupin, until you have come to your senses.”

He looked up at her uneasily. “Dora –”

“And don’t you dare call me that when you don’t mean it.”

Sirius decided that this was his clue to leave. He did not want to be caught in the crossfire, which was more than probable if he interpreted the pleading glances his friend was sending him right. But Remus knew his stance on things. No need to be pulled into what would surely turn out to be a pretty ugly affair.

After his one possible saviour had closed the door behind him, Remus sighed. “Do-,” he began, then corrected himself, “Tonks.” She winced at that, which made him feel guilty, but she had insisted on it. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”

She deflated somewhat at his tone. “I want you to stop being so bloody defensive when it comes to us.”

“There is no _us_ –“

“Due to you denying that it could be.”

They glared at each other.

“Sirius said –“

“So Sirius was giving you tips on relationships?” Remus mouth curled into a mocking smile. “Don’t you know that he’s never been one to keep a girl for longer than a month? Or do you think he’s gathered some life-changing experience in Azkaban.” He was glad their friend had left them alone. It was not his intention to hurt Sirius, too.

“I didn’t ask for advice on girls, but on _you_.” That, Dora noted with smug satisfaction, shut him up. Only not for very long.

“And what was it that Professor Sirius had to say about me?”

She regarded him thoughtfully for a second, then decided to be honest. “That you don’t want to be hurt.” He clearly had not expected that. “This is not some hormone-driven thing, Remus. I wouldn’t do that to you. I –”

“You don’t know what you’d be getting yourself into.”

Anger sparked again inside her stomach. “That –”

He cut her off again, voice strangely soft. “Maybe I don’t want you to be hurt either.”

“If this is about you being too old and a bloody werewolf –“

“Of course it is,” he said, still calm, making her feel foolish about her outbursts. “You’re an Auror. What do you think the Ministry will say, when you decide to go out with a Dark Creature? A half-breed?”

“I don’t care what they say.” Her voice was almost desperate by now. “I know you want me to think about my career and life and whatnot. But I don’t care about any of that, if I cannot be happy. And being with you has always made me happy. And now we could be – something so much better than what we’ve been up until now.”

“Or it will fall apart as fast as it has come upon us,” he smiled sadly, “and then _we_ ’d be nothing at all.”

Only part of her registered what he really meant to say with that. The other, much bigger part, had halted at the fact that he had said ‘what has come upon _us_ ’. As in both of them.

“So, you do feel the same.” He looked up sheepishly, no doubt cursing himself for his foolish choice of words. But before he could attempt to twist the words around, she continued hastily. “Don’t lie to me. You promised once you’d never do that.”

Remus stayed silent for what seemed like an eternity, looking at everything but her. “Yes,” he finally admitted, still avoiding her eyes. “But that doesn’t make it right.”

Dora laughed at that, not happy in any way, but both desperate and relieved. “Sometimes I think this is the only right thing in the world.”

That brought a smile to his lips. During her teenage years she had read quite a couple of cheesy romance novels. This sounded like something right out of one of them. The young, beautiful and, of course, misunderstood heroine trying to make her chosen one see her undying love for him. Although he really would not mind them having a happy end.

Remus opened his arms for her. “Come here.”

“Does that mean you’re giving in?” she asked, her voice laced with doubt.

“No,“ he admitted. “That means, that I don’t want to fight with you.”

That was most likely the best she could get at this point. So she gave him a small smile and let herself sink into his embrace, glad to at least be able to hold him again. Those past weeks had been horrible.

And, she guessed, this was a first step into the right direction. Sirius had been right. They were both stubborn. Now she only had to prove that she was far more so than Remus could ever be. Black blood, and all that.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Remus murmured into her hair.

“You won’t,” she promised.

* * *

Only a fortnight later, Sirius had to prove the truth of his words and get himself killed,  and in a most avoidable way at that, leaving Remus desperate and grieving and more set than ever to not let anything above friendship happen between them.

The walls he was erecting between them were almost visible to her, and the distance hurt, even more so because her cousin’s death had hit her harder than she had thought possible.

But she had managed to get through to Remus once before. Somehow, she would manage again. And this time, she would not let him leave, ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please consider leaving a review.


	9. Aftermath of Fate

Remus did not look up when she entered, though a slight, and perhaps involuntary, inclination of his head showed that he had noticed her. He was almost sunken in on himself, sitting at the cluttered desk of his room. Tense fingers lingered inches away from some parchment lying innocently in front of him, twitching every now and then as if afraid to close the short distance that could have been miles, too, for his inability to allow himself to touch the words he knew by heart. They pained him, but he had always been one to disregard that for the low undercurrent of joy it brought.

Not quite sure how to break the silence clouding her friend, Dora stepped closer to him, stopping when she reached the desk. Moony, the parchment read in the elegant if somewhat impatient script of her cousin. Feeling a rush of helpless sympathy, mixing unpleasantly with her own grief, she raised her hand, not quite touching his shoulders in a mocking irony of his reaching out for Sirius’ words.

It made her want to laugh, she, who always put her foot in her mouth at a loss for words, she with no sense of personal space unable to touch the man she claimed to love. Yes, that was laughter bubbling hysterically in her stomach, but she carefully swallowed it down.

“Remus,” Dora said, trailing off again, eliciting no reaction other than the smallest twitch in his fingers – away from her, she thought, ignoring the stab of irritation. It only strengthened her resolve to break Remus out of his stubborn grief for the past, back into the reality where his family still breathed and lived and hurt alongside him.

“Mum and Molly said you’ve skipped every scheduled meal with either of them.” She tried to keep any chastising tone out of her voice, but her worry was blatantly obvious. “You didn’t come to me either.” No reaction. “Remus –“

“Dora.” His voice was rough from disuse and raw emotion. “Please, just leave me alone.” When he did not look at her, did not move at all, Dora felt her irritation grow.

“No,” she snapped, a bit harsher than she had intended. “You have to get out of here, Remus. Get some air, eat something, meet people –“

That got him moving, though now definitely away from her. The motion looked painfully abrupt, and his back that was now facing her was tense, ready as a shield to guard him from any blow she might direct at him.

“Are you ser –” Dora started, only to stop herself hastily when she realized what her angry mind had been about to say, though his violent flinch indicated that it was too late.

“Please,” he rasped, somehow making himself even smaller than he had been when she entered. “I just can’t do this right now.”

“Then when can you? It’s been a month, Remus,” she pleaded, a desperate kind of urgency in her voice. But to no avail.

He merely repeated “I can’t.” His words were caught between a plea and refusal. Refusal to accept this loss and her help and the fact that he of all people had made it so far – something so ridiculous he just could not wrap his head around it.

Stepping around the chair, she knelt in front of him, not willing to let herself be shut out any longer. “You have to.” There were a thousand things she would have liked to tell him, to scream at him to make it penetrate that thick head of his. But she settled for this. A simple truth, and a goal that seemed impossible to reach from where they were now.

The first days after the fight in the Department of Mysteries had been hard, but more physically exhausting. They had just not had enough time to sit down and reflect on what had happened, the finality had not yet registered. Harry needed to be consoled, all the children had to be checked over by Madam Pomfrey, who kept Hermione in the hospital wing for five days, fighting against the curse that just kept doing damage to her body. Someone had to inform Mr. and Mrs. Granger why their daughter missed the train and had a new scar adorning her chest.

Dumbledore had chosen Remus for that task, probably because he had been her teacher once and very good at words and diplomacy. Though Dora was sure it was partly to keep the werewolf’s mind off the loss of the last of his old friends.

Then of course, there was Voldemort. Not even the Ministry could deny his resurrection anymore, now that he had appeared in their very own atrium, mocking the powerful by trespassing right into the heart of their realm. And, naturally, they reacted with panic. The Order had all hands full, trying to keep building the resistance, as well as avoiding public chaos.

Soon, though, it all became their new reality, routine, so to speak. And with that bit of calm in the eye of the storm, came realization, grief.

“It’s not fair,” Remus said, finally raising his head, though his eyes, dull and dark, a far cry from their usual amber, still avoided hers.

Dora snorted in response. When had life ever been fair to him? Turned into a werewolf, cast into a war, betrayed by his friends, survived said friends, denied any kind of permanent job that would do his intelligence justice. No, fairness had definitely never been part of Remus’ life.

She did not tell him that, however, knowing that he would have hated the very thought of her joining his pity party. Well, at any other time, he would not have allowed himself to wallow in self-pity like that. So she merely nodded. “I know.”

“He was –“ Remus trailed off helplessly, but Dora, seeing her chance to break him out of his misery, cut in resolutely.

“He was a drunkard and a miserable escapee who could not listen to those who had his best interests in mind. He was an idiot and jumped at the first sign of trouble. He blew all caution into the wind and -” She took a deep breath. “And got himself killed.” Ending her little rant, Dora fervently hoped she had not gone too far. She had loved her cousin, but her words were true and she needed to get Remus out of his self-imposed stupor.

His eyes shut tightly, something akin to a whimper crossed Remus’ lips, as his head sunk down onto his chest. Dora leaned forwards on her knees, her gaze softening as she reached out. This time there was no invisible barrier keeping her from touching him. His arm beneath her hand was tense, almost to the point of trembling.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, painfully aware of the inadequacy of these words.

“I should have kept him from going,” Remus rambled, denying her words. “I should have been by his side, when Lestrange –“

“Shh.” Cupping his face with both her hands, she lifted his head, waiting patiently until his eyes flickered to hers. “Remus, you were there. But he did not want to be saved.”

That stilled him, knocked the breath out of his lungs, as he sorted through the racing thoughts in his mind.

A small eternity later, he looked at her. Really looked at her, clearer than he had done in weeks, seeing more than his recent loss and the imagined failures he loaded onto his shoulders.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” Remus mused. “It was – we were not enough anymore. Without James, after fourteen years of regrets –”

“I think he searched for death as much as it searched for him,” Dora stated softly. Sirius had been like a caged animal, drowning in all the ways he could not help. Being reunited with his old friend and his godson had not been enough to erase the overwhelming presence of the bars surrounding him, reminding him of past mistakes and miseries. “He needed to go home.”

Some glint appeared in Remus’ eyes, making him seem more alive than he had since the fight in the Ministry. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he snapped, drawing his head back, out of her hands, but held it upright on his own. “He wasn’t supposed to be a bloody coward.”

Not giving her a chance to answer, he continued with his voice slightly raised. “He didn’t even try. He had all of us and he just pushed us away.” Shaking his head, Remus looked at the chaos on his desk, nearly growling when he took in the letter that had kept him captive earlier. With an angry motion, he swept it from the surface, several parchments and pictures following in its wake, turning the ground around them into a battlefield of fallen memories.

“I made it,” he shouted, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “I made it. And I was alone. I had no one.”

“You had me,” Dora spoke softly, claiming his shaking hands. ”You had me to make new memories. He had only ghosts of his past.” There was certainly truth in that. Being locked up in the hated house of his family, with only Order members to come by, his friend and his godson, who looked like his dead best friend, constant reminders of what he had lost. He was twelve years out of his time, cast into another war, and one he could not end any more than he could the last.

“I had you,” Remus agreed half-dazed as if still not able to believe that wonder. And, in truth, he was not, catching himself at dreading the day she would finally decide that she could do better than him, that the whole world was open to her, not only one old werewolf, damaged beyond his years.

“And you have me, still,” she insisted quietly, knowing full well what was going on inside him, wondering herself when he would ever accept that he was stuck with her for good. That she would not leave him for anything. Not only because he had been her best friend for most of her life. But getting into that – love as her inner voice so helpfully contributed, both giddy and exhausted – was a battle she would have to fight another time.

Resurfacing from her musings, she found Remus staring at her intently. “I do,” he admitted and there was a small smile gracing his lips, gone almost as fast as it had appeared, but it was echoed in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Dora squeezed his hands in response, not sure what exactly he was thanking her for. Stumbling onto him during the Potter’s funeral, insisting on him becoming her friend, being there for him now or for loving him so unconditionally. She did not think he knew it either.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” she said cheerfully. “I still intend on getting you out of here. Grimmauld Place is not the right place to get over your mourning.”

Remus did not answer her, but when she got to her feet he let her pull him up without resistance. Once they were standing, she pulled him into a hug, conveying all she could not find the right words for.

“Let’s go then. I told Dad to cook for four.”

* * *

And Ted had taken her words to heart. Maybe more than that. The table in the living room bent under all the plates waiting for hungry souls to devour them. All healthy and filling food, just right for someone who had spent a month starving himself due to utter negligence of his own well-being.

Andromeda had already been sitting there when Dora shooed Remus in to take his usual place, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Ahh,” she said, and beneath the sarcasm was something else that he could not quite name. “The lost lamb has returned home.”

A warmth spread in Remus’ chest that he had not thought could emerge ever again after the loss of Sirius had settled like ice inside of him. But here he was, not even a minute after entering the house and he felt again like he belonged somewhere.

“Andromeda,” he croaked, feeling like an utter fool.

“How did this miracle come to pass?”

Shuffling his feet, certain that his cheeks were turning red, he answered sheepishly. “Dora made me snap out of – it.”

Andromeda nodded matter-of-factly. “She has a talent for that. Well, I hope you’re not going to disappear on us like that again.”

“I don’t plan to.” Now that he was here, he wondered how he could have stayed away for so long. As much as Sirius had felt like family to him, the Tonkses were the Black scion’s family. In blood and everything. Of course Remus would have been welcome here, especially while grieving. He could have done that in much better company than a battered, baleful house elf in a house he had come to despise nearly as much as its former owner.

“Sit down,” Andromeda ordered, which he did, far more at ease now. “Judging on Nymphadora’s obvious worry, I don’t really have to ask how you’re doing.”

Shrugging uncomfortably, he answered somewhat evasively. “It is hard. Some might think this being the second time I’ve lost him would make it easier. But –“

“It doesn’t.”

Shaking his head he agreed with her. Then he chuckled bitterly. “I somehow expect him to just miraculously come back again. I mean,” he looked at her helplessly. “He did it before. I thought him gone. I wished him dead. But he came back and I was wrong and everything would be easier if he could just do it again.”

Andromeda regarded him silently, before sighing. “He won’t.”

“I know.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Doesn’t make it better.”

“I suppose not.”

On a closer look, Andromeda looked exhausted herself. She held herself with the usual grace, her back straight and her face schooled into a carefully built mask to not betray her underlying emotions. But over the years he had gotten good at reading her – or maybe she had relaxed enough around him to allow him glimpses at her true self. Now, there were dark rings under her eyes and her posture was a bit stiff. She might not have let herself go, like he had, but she was mourning her cousin. All of a sudden Remus felt very selfish for isolating himself like that. She might need someone to share in her grief just as much as he did.

“How are you faring?” he asked, and the sharp glint in her eyes told him that he was right.

“It helps to have my family around,” Andromeda replied, chastising him subtly.

A smile flickered over his lips as he inclined his head. “I shall remember that for the future.”

“See that you do.”

Their impromptu therapy session was interrupted by Ted’s cheerful greeting from the door, where he appeared with another plate filled with steaming food. “Look who’s here,” he called. “That’s five galleons for me, darling.”

“You bet on this?” Dora asked incredulously as she followed her father to the table, pouring them all a glass of wine. Twin amused glances met her from her parents, causing her to roll her eyes. “Of course you did. So how is it that Dad won?”

“Not in this tone, young lady,” Ted mock-scowled. “I’ll have you know that I’m not always losing.”

“Please,” Andromeda chimed in, her tone decidedly patronizing. “If we weren’t married, meaning that I can’t have you run around ruining my reputation, I’d have won your last shirt ten times over. And if you, my dear Nymphadora, had waited one more day to retrieve Remus here –” She trailed off, shaking her head as if disappointed at her daughter’s near betrayal.

Her husband though, grinned widely. “Well, darling, you might be a sneaky Slytherin, but you can’t beat me in these matters.” When she merely raised an eyebrow at him, he leaned over, patting her hand. “You know, emotions. Love. Things you can’t fight with all your cunning and logic.”

“Dad,” Dora laughed. “You can really be glad that you’re married. Mum’s making her ‘I’ll murder you in your sleep if you say one more word’ look.” And, indeed, Andromeda was smiling sweetly, her right index finger trailing her steak knife innocently.

Ted gulped audibly, then tried to hide behind his wine glass. “Well.” He retraced hastily. “Let’s drink to Dora finally getting Remus home. No matter who managed to make some profit of it.”

They drank, and Remus, despite believing himself unable to do so ever again only hours earlier, smiled and laughed with his all-but-family, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders and his mind letting go of some of its burdens, deciding instead to look forward again.

Later, while he and Dora were washing the dishes, he touched her arm gently. “Thank you,” he said, then echoed Ted’s toast. “For bringing me home.”

Sneaking an arm around his waist, Dora hugged his side. “That’s my job.” And he had never been happier about her being so hopelessly Huffelpuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, for reading. And excuse the delay. Exams were rather exhausting this semester.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is already finished and I'm editing it while posting it. Which does not mean that you can't wish for scenes to be added or the like. In fact, I'd be thrilled if you do.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
